by Susan Shea

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I was the last one to be in your
empty condo, taking the final
walk around before surrendering
the key to the new owners

checking everything was in order
I found your world war two army
jacket hanging alone in your closet
because none of us knew
what to do with it

so I put it on, looked at myself in your
mirror, feeling cowardly without you
I wept bullets of tears all over your
medals, knowing you were my last
hope, the last one standing who could
hear my truths, my only father on earth
who fought against all the lies
with your battalions of all the victorious
people in all of history before and after
Christ himself

you gave them all to me
to march my march through
my own time

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Susan Shea is the daughter of a World War II veteran who was cherished by his family. She is a retired school psychologist who was raised in New York City, and is now living in a forest in Pennsylvania. Since she returned to writing poetry last year, her poems have been accepted by a number of publications, including: Across the Margin, Ekstasis, Feminine Collective, The Avalon Literary Review, Persimmon Tree Literary Magazine, Vita Poetica, Triggerfish Critical Review, Amethyst Review, New English Review, Litbreak Magazine, and others.

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