Honor
My husband screams Oorah! in the night.
He dreams in ammunition and targets,
50 caliber under his pillow,
and nuc's for sweat beads.
Tells me he loves me through 10 minute phone calls, poetry walls, and computer glitches.
I bet his fingernails are filthy with hatred, greed, and confusion.
Never wants to admit to me, though he swears he misses me...
I wanna hear him say which poison he's sniffin: money, fear, or contentment.
Since one if not all is the reason he won't come home to me.
I get to drive his VA paid Escalade while he's away.
Sometimes I would flip through speeches just to hear him talk through Bush tactics, and practice a smile for if ever he receives a heart colored of purple pigments.
Much like the ligaments that were blown to pieces while serving his God.
We're democrats by the way...
with Republican orders.
We have a "50 flat screen with blue ray and surround sound to remind him of surrounding sounds of bullets, missals, and Humvee's.
Peace ain't never lived here.
Not even between my legs cause I keep getting fucked by chaos, and he ain't even good at it.
Keep tryin to match his heartbeat, but he reminds me through re-enlisted six figures that he doesn't have one.
Traded his heart for rank and seniority.
He said he's defending his country!
I say,
Baby what about me?
I don't even cry when he leaves now. What's the point when those tears won't make him stay?
Operation: DO WHAT THE FUCK THEY SAY!
Die now, ask questions later.
I ain't never fought beside him in battle. Never felt his rage through machines.
But I cross my heart with my hand every time our song is played.
Respectfully, wanting to divorce his reasons, or speak through pussy language to someone who gives a damn and can see right through my revolutionary poems.
They gave me a letter, a medal, his dog tags, and his balls to explain his heroic above and beyond call of duty.
Might as well shit on my face as I pass his misfortune to his first born, the next in line.
While I get to drive with honors in the VA paid Escalade while he's away.
I've been a widow from he moment he signed the dotted line...
Our country tis of thee...sweet land of liberty...

-still in progress-

By: Ebpoetry