Another Stolen Sister Poem

For lack of anything better, here's another war poem from my sister's collection. August really is the slowest news month of the year.

Advice to Friends Who Don't Know What to Say

Don't speak of the future

as long as there's a bullet

in the chamber,

the safety off,

and a black cloud of desert sand

swirling through my dreams.

Don't speak of the past

as if we're rehearsing

a eulogy in rough draft,

waiting for a knock at my door

complete with flag draped box

and medals in a frame.

Don't argue the present,

debate the issues

as if you're helping me

make sense of the fact

that my kid wears a flak jacket,

and I pray daily

that someone else's son

dies instead.