This week I’ll be publishing daily poems written in response to photographs from E.O. Hoppe’s Amerika: Modernist Photographs from the 1920s (2007, ed. Phillip Prodger). Some of these I may compile into a manuscript (tentatively: Amerika 1926). This is #5 (the last).
War Veteran, Texas
As long as men rule over other men, there will always be war,
there will always be veterans. Each will return home, a symbol
or sacrifice. Each will return to find trenches and barbed-wire snaking
through their lawn, their bedrooms. Open skies are never clear.
Every man is a nation, and when it comes to his own self-preservation,
every man is a nationalist. No medal or monument will fill the wounds.
Not even he knows what he fought for, fought against.