Shrapnel still rattled around
in the dark catacombs
and sepulchral bone caverns
of the staff sergeant’s perforated knee.
Four deployments later,
long after the sudden, blistering pain
buckled him down to that arid Iraqi soil,
as enemy fire whipped around
like an angry sandstorm,
he was still fighting to get his Purple Heart.
Now retired—wearier, flabbier and more resigned—
he stood in the cracked, uneven driveway
of his newly remodeled ranch house
for some formulaic reality show
his battle buddy nominated him for,
unbeknownst to him.
Throngs of people itching to end up on camera
for a split second that could be paused, shared
and dissected when company came over
massed outside his modest house
that hordes of ant-like contractors
scurried over the last few weeks.
His yard teemed with a clapping, cheering crush
of grinning humanity milling about,
with the bright lights of roving camera crews
and the glaring spotlight of appreciation
he had so craved after giving so much for all those years,
after leaving it all out there
during PT, at motor pool inspections and in occupied countries
where they glared at him on every street corner.
But a pallid death of rigor mortis crept over him
as the spray-tanned host peppered him with questions,
as the faceless crowd of strangers blurred in the background.
It all felt so mechanical, a ritual like cranking out pushups
when your muscles were so oiled by rote
it never felt like exertion anymore.
He mustered the best answers he could,
presented the most pleasant mien,
fidgeted a bit
while a furious conflagration flared up in his knee,
that old place of pain
burned like a sulfurous breath of subterranean hellfire
from deep within.
The descendent of steelworkers, author, award-winning journalist and Iraq War veteran Joseph S. Pete hails from the Calumet Region just outside Chicago where the oil refinery flare stacks burn round the clock and the mills make clouds. He has authored three local interest books, is a frequent guest on Lakeshore Public Radio, and has had his plays staged at theater festivals, including Salem State University’s Veterans 10-Minute Play Festival. His literary work and photography have appeared in more than 100 journals.
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Our first Savage WonderGround is in the books! It was an incredible night - read the write up from Alexandria’s own Zebra Press here.
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