I Read About You in the Paper
Abby E. Murray
Colonels make speeches / in which they must mention / their spouses, feminine endurance, / a devotion to sacrifice.
There was an argument.
You and your wife moved
from room to room.
You keep guns in the garage
and wear boots in the house—
none of this surprises me.
You know the exact heft
and efficacy of a rifle,
know when a handgun
is preferable to a pistol
and how to hold both
for maximum lethality.
I believe all this, easily.
You deployed after I taught you
and before, many times,
and you talked about fathers
who do what you’ve done,
called them sad, blamed the war
as well as weakness. I believe it.
The paper says you moved
from room to room,
armed, as you did through
other homes with fewer doors,
where you excelled at finding
people who chose to hide.
I, a voting American, believe this
without hesitation,
just as I believe your rank,
your education, the stars
pinned to your future.
Colonels make speeches
in which they must mention
their spouses, feminine endurance,
a devotion to sacrifice.
You’ve called your wife strong—
a rock—and I believe it.
Having met her, I believe
she is the size of a woman
you could shove to the floor
then kick in the chest,
the face, without breaking aim,
your arms loaded with fire.
I believe boots leave prints
when pressed to human skin,
that they sing a sick crunch
from muscle and bone
that is both unnatural and real.
This sound is indelible
in the ears of those who hear,
even children, even yours.
Your wife is a body
your boots have struck.
Your babies know
the words don’t shoot us.
I read about you in the paper
and want you to know I have
yet to say it isn’t possible,
you, a human, gun to your head
where you last saw the enemy,
and the police outside, waiting.
✽ ✽ ✽
Abby E. Murray is the editor of Collateral, a literary journal concerned with the impact of violent conflict and military service beyond the combat zone. She teaches argumentation in military strategy for army officers on fellowship from the Army War College at the University of Washington, and she offers free creative writing workshops for immigrants, civilians, soldiers, veterans, and their loved ones around Tacoma, Washington, where she is the city’s poet laureate. Her book, Hail and Farewell, won the Perugia Press Poetry Prize and was a finalist for the 2020 Washington State Book Award. You can reach her at www.abbyemurray.com.