Unposted Letter

Fall is my best season, summer
settled like dust, everything
neatly in place in good time.
A fresh start, as they say, as if
I had you to look forward to,
leaves falling, Swope Park, 1943.
Thirty-five years. When I left,
you called in sick, a Thursday,
I think it was, Union Station,
Track 7, 10:40 a.m. I gave you
my silver wings. Summer of
Schweinfurt, Regensburg.
Four of my friends shot down.
You know how it is, days, nights
adding up, human frailty, other
easy excuses. Life is one long
betrayal. Said he. Now history
is cheerful as ever, this fall they
are scrutinizing again the west
bank of the Jordan, Jack's brains
splashed on her hands. My summer
was placid and short. I am happy,
on leave from my college, more honestly
loving my wife. My daughters
are women. I write very
few letters. I don't know why
I must tell you all this.

28 poems, 58 pages
ISBN: 0-935306-23-4
$9.95
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