January 2014 - Comments Off

Stephen As Sergeant

Parke Haskell '15

Of all their many sons, you were called
Sergeant.  You were the first of your brothers
to grow a full head of brains.  They taught you
numbers so that each morning you could count them,
write down their names -- it took hours -- every day
there were more.  They begin to blend -- multiply.
Every one of your big brothers bearing
resemblance to you. Then -- the war broke out.
Each one had a gun with your sound logic
in it.  Reason rang over and over
again.  You got out cum laude with perfect
attendance.  It was War of Names.  It was War
of Numbers. Every boy dead, accounted for.
All dead but the Sergeant.  Unnumbered.  Unnamed.

Published by: in Issue 1: Fall 2013, Poetry, Volume 70

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