The Sand Kissed

I could write a poem of alien sand
where water is the sweetest touch,
where MacDonald's golden arches
and John Wayne cast no shadow
and the beach of the Western frontier
burns forever without the respite of ocean.

I could write a poem of reporters,
camera bulbs exploding, firing questions,
planting microphones to spout official party lines.

Men in flowing robes beneath headwear
announcing their usurpery of God
weilding official party lines like scriptures,
papal blessing kissed
like a bruise from snake lips,
as righteous as jihad.

But the poem I'm writing is of a mother,
waking from the sound of carrion wings
flapping dark knives across the sun,
to realise it's the fan ticking sweat
from the mattress where she lays listening
for her son's tread on the stair,
remembering her fingers
on the silk bristle of his army-cut hair.

In memory of:

Sgt. Jose M. Velez
Hometown: Bronx, New York, U.S.

Age: 35 years old

Died: June 9, 2006 in Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Unit: Army Reserves, 773rd Transportation Company, Army Reserve, Fort Totten, N.Y.

Incident: Died of injuries sustained when a makeshift bomb exploded near his Humvee during combat operations in Kirkuk.