by

Frank Valentyn

Backdrop a village in Sudan
half-destroyed huts, military wreckage
he stands facing the camera
as if it’s another inexplicable happenstance
not looking at the insistent interpreter
No, he doesn’t know how old he is, he says
but his mother would know, he says
shifts the Kalashnikov more comfortably
across his thin shoulder
barrel pointing at the chasing soil
Yes, he has fought many years
and there were killings in the last one
he is the mother not interviewed
holding the unhuman shrinkage
to her unhuman empty breast
and the thousands looking out
through her empty vision
he is the general in the next vision
he says: we have commanded Jihad
it is necessary that we fight holy war
and man that dies fighting
has god on his side
he is the weltering teak forest
concessioned to the arms dealer
vultures flapping away from the blown-off soles
fattened on profits legally bequeathed
by the beast’s nature
he is the essence of the telegram
that somehow found its way
to the brothers in the temporary camp
that impossibly met up after the thousands
and could not stop embracing
it’s from their father
he says: it says
we are fine
but we have nothing

There is a winding silver river at dusk in the last scene
distant
I’m sure he must have walked, or swum through it sometime
but I don’t know whether it struck him as full or almost empty
or whether it washed him
it’s always there I suppose, to go back to
if he can remember how
and needs to drink from it

(Impressions from a television documentary)

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Rhinestone Ring
by: Sekhem Psikor Strecker
from: Brisbane, Queensland, Australia

To visit all of Frank Valentyn's poems, click HERE

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