Evans, Kerry James

English

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Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal Volume 8 Issue 2 Article 5 January 2009 Soldier's Apology Kerry James Evans Follow this and additional works at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate Recommended Citation Evans, Kerry James (2009) "Soldier's Apology," Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal: Vol. 8: Iss. 2, Article 5. Available at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol8/iss2/5 This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). It has been accepted for inclusion in Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal by an authorized editor of The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). For more information, please contact ORB@binghamton.edu. MILTON KESSLER POETRY CONTEST FINALIST SOLDIER'S APOLOGY Kerry James Evans I. What apology would my mother give-my father, a room of doubt, where excuse evolves to reason? My mother turned forty this year. My father forcy-rwo. I am currently eight years older than my mother, when she had me. When my father was the age I am now, I was six-old enough to fire a gun. When I was born, my father joined the Air Force, then the Army, moved his family from the South across the world. He swore I would never see Jasper, Alabama, again. You cannot escape your family. You cannot escape the South, Alabama, Golden Eagle Syrup, the quarter horses in your Uncle's barn or that goddamn clay red as your wife's hair. This is what I cell myself, living in Illinois. 12 1Evans: Soldier's ApologyPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2009KERRY JAMES EVANS II. Why don't we take it outside, walk it to the lake - drown it? Tie a cinder block to its ankles-no, chat hardly makes sense. Planning has never been my strength. I get it from my father, the Colonel marching troops into Baghdad. I am one of chem. You are one of them. We are all marching into Baghdad. Jody is fucking your wife. Your sixteen year-old wife, my sister, pregnant, belly out to here. She is carrying a baby boy who is also marching into Baghdad, Persia, the last beast to foll, the pastor yells from the pulpit. I would rather kill you than apologize to you. When I say kill, I mean wrap dee-cord around your face, stuff your ass with a bangalore torpedo, stab a crown of barbed-wire into your head-make you wish you could be reborn. 13 2Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 8, Iss. 2 [2009], Art. 5https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol8/iss2/5H ARPUR PALATE Ill. We are the dying multitude. If you see my mother, my father-tell them I followed my orders. I carried the guide-on. Engineers lead the way! Bue you will not see my parents, and you will not know chem. I will not know chem. We will not see one another beneath the Aares, rockets, tracers, mortars, grenades tossed in our foxholes-we will not stop killing co say I love you. To our wives-co our mothers, our brothers, our sisters, our fathers: We are not sorry for killing you. We know not what we do. 14 3Evans: Soldier's ApologyPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2009

Soldier\u27s Apology

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Soldier\u27s Apology

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