Otis Henry Grave

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Otis Henry

An angel, woman, student, soldier,
student and soldier are as one.
A doughboy throwing his grenade
Only to have gas terminate his youth

In a foreign land of a forgotten war
The war to end all wars that fueled the next
A mothers love would propel the memory
To stone and building for a post

earning a place on a history list
In the end, the name prompts questions
From a generation eighty years newer.
Curious about the grave with no boy
Otis Henry, student and soldier and finally
Marble.

Never allowed to play

They were never allowed to play
only stripped of dignity and life.
Their short existence too much for a master race
to stand
Led by a star to travel toward
gas, gun, and graves
that became the last toys in this life.

Never could they have imagined
a greater evil than that nameless party at the
zenith of a nations unspeakable history which
intelligence demands its name to be hidden here.

But now their names are lost
divided right to left and left to
Death.
To be a Jew was to wear a badge of honor
because we will never forget that
they were never allowed to play.

Pray

Now I lay me down to sleep
If I should die before I wake
I pray my lord my soul to take
A childhood prayer meant to comfort or scare
Whichever promoted a parent’s night of rest.

The Mission

An ant runs across my smooth countertop
Oblivious to the spray meant for him
Maybe his mission is too important
To be delayed by the chemicals

So where the diabolical trap fails
My thumb quickly prevails

On her majesty’s secret service
Might have fared better
Instead it ends with a delta faucet funeral
Washing down a spiraling steel drain.

Long Hours

Long hours slip by slowly with each passing tick of the clock.
Time clicks.
Minutes seem to drag out toward an unreachable eternity.
Seconds, to minutes, and then hours
But when it is over
we are surprised at how
short
long hours really were with each passing tick of the clock.

80’s Day

I remember 50’s day
in the 80’s when we had it all
big hair, big bands, metal ballads and parachute pants.
Cable television, just over the horizon

We were unique, never changing like Magnum P.I.
Don Johnson and Bo Derek were never growing old
Whitesnake, Van Halen, and Michael before he was weird and still cool.
Eight tracks and records died to cassette tapes.

Reagan was going to save us all
While the Terminator reminded us, we were doomed
We were in awe by DOS and stunned by Windows
Computers were innovative, while we typed on typewriters

Now they have an 80’s day
Where’s the beef, Like a Virgin, and headbands
It’s all retro now with spandex and leg warmers.
Foreign to a generation who never saw the music on MTV.