by J.D. Isip
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Incirlik AFB, 1997
“When I was in the military,
they gave me a medal for killing two men,
and a discharge for loving one.”
—Tech Sgt. Leonard Matlovich
Naked as my head after the feast of clippers
——–on the first day of basic,
——–a tabloid life, served up in yellow
——–legal pads, lay before the feeders.
Inside, razors rained down, pinning
——–papier-mâché butterflies drowned in blood—I trembled.
——–I thought of you, Sgt. Lenny, shining—
——–My hero, history was ours.
A guise, a rouse, mummy gauze wrapped
——–on our years like the star-spangled
——–stripes of Old Glory they allowed
——–on your coffin before mine.
Did Sgt. Lenny cry on the rough blue
——–jacket he’d never worn until
——–wet coffee ground earth slapped on him;
——–and could it cover the cold?
It was cold, the Celsius of alone,
——–and I would have froze, but, Lenny,
——–for this? Survival, Leonard—
——–they taught us that…
Sometimes the marches trail in the memory
——–though, and regret resumes
——–its prominent place, holding the flag
——–I still salute, with you.
To dig ditches knee-deep in Turkish soil
——–or inhale heat of South Korean
——–monsoon winds—Did you, too,
——–long for Vietnam?
That time of my manly duties and manly attire
——–wielding the metal barrel of my .50-cal
——–heavy like desire in a foreign land
——–where OSIs never closed
After I, too, shed my ribboned and ranked skin
——–I thought of you, Sgt. Lenny, shining
——–following your northern star, and I sleep
——–in the peace of one lover’s arms.
“A discharge for loving one”—you ask?
——–Our injuries, our military pageant prosecutions—
——–high above—self-shame, discharge—
——–like bombs bursting in air, they fade away
In a kiss, freedom, emancipation
——–those hard-won spoils of wars—
——–a declaration of independence…
——–For this, Sgt. Lenny, for this.
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J.D. Isip’s full-length poetry collections include Kissing the Wound (Moon Tide Press, 2023) and Pocketing Feathers (Sadie Girl Press, 2015). His third collection, tentatively titled I Wasn’t Finished, will be released by Moon Tide Press at the end of 2024 or early 2025. J.D. teaches at Collin College in Plano, Texas, where he lives with his dogs, Ivy and Bucky.
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