Chicagoetry: My Good War

MY GOOD WAR

My friend's father finally
showed me

his medals. His son,
my friend Dan,

a Navy Commander
killed

on September 11th,
had arranged them

in a
frame

some years
ago.

I remember Dan
telling me a story

of his dad laying wounded
in the guts in a barn

in France, but
keep my goddam mouth

SHUT about
it by the way.

In the days
after the attack,

I visited their
home. His dad

answered the door
to their quiet, warm, humble

Naperville home
in tears. Yeah

we wept
some. Then, after conversation and letter reading, suddenly, but quietly,

he brought me
into the dining room.

On the mantle
were his World War II

medals, in a
frame. There were

a lot
of them, I

think more
than Dan

got. "Jesus,"
I thought.

Wide-eyed, dry
eyed, like

I am
right

now.

-

J. J. Tindall is the Beachwood's poet-in-residence. He can reached at jjtindall@yahoo.com. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.