White armband with black cross,
moving from stifling air conditioned halls
to field of operations
with army satchel,
no medicine
but only bandanges
I saved some girl's life
by trading her what they gave me
and now though she lives in NY
she won't talk to me
maybe because she figured
that I was or wasn't after something conjugal after all.
The other one
who almost died
in bar-splatter
didn't even thank me
and felt it was some living and disgusting disservice
that I had taken her to a hospital,
but I let those bad feelings go
because after all
I had known her Nazi brother for years.
It began as a disguise
and dreams of white silk cloth
arrayed as deadly hospice
in desert rays,
and I never really told people
how many lives I had saved
but now maybe it does not matter
because I know with my black heart
about their matters now
and I feel ancient again
when I realize that they are not interested in sparing themselves any longer
so go live a chaotic life in San Francisco
maybe one day
you will accidently say something kind
but what I really hoped for
was that in the scope of the vertiginous world
that they would save something that I loved
out of the lashing sandstorm known as time
and send it in a letter like a dried blood red rose petal
that I could pin to my lapel
so that I could forget
the fork that my enemies polished
and the lies that they told
to try to seem impressive
when food was scarce
and new war had broken out like Plague.
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