1
min

Saigon '68

234 readings

10

I have seen you, shell-shocked city,
Shimmer in the parachute flares
The day’s dust and exhaust glowing green
In the light of descending torches.
I have heard the wooden whooping
Of the gunship’s prop as it circles Districts 7 and 8,
Pouring down fire, every fourth round a tracer,
A blazing stream arching onto its target.
Then, emptied, it flies away, leaving the night in silence,
Save for the rustle of bamboo leaves.
I have watched as the flares rock gently to their firefly deaths,
Returning the night to blackness.
Darkness – soft as felt cloth, brittle as smoked glass.
Shattered by a single rifle shot – crisp as billiard balls striking.

CONTEST

Image of Rendez-vous, July 2019 issue
10

Few words for the author?

Take a look at our advice on commenting here!

To post comments, please
Image of Keith Simmonds
Keith Simmonds · ago
A well-written poem, very touching, on the horrors of war!
·

You will also like it!

Written by the same author

On the same theme