flooded war memories, poem of how an old trusted friend can turn and attack you, by Janet Kuypers

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flooded war memories

it was st. patricks day,
went to another country to see you

met up with you at a hotel
it was like we were never apart

we talked like old friends,
old war-time veterans

who fought in a war together
who shared our life stories

while sitting in a trench together
waiting for a bomb to strike

it was st. patricks day,
and everything seemed normal
and right

even though you lived far away
and even though we had different
life plans

it was st. patricks day,
i remember you laying down

in the bath tub, like a little boy,
splashing and playing in the water,

not even flinching that i was there
talking to you, naked in the tub

it was st. patricks day,
i wanted to get out, see the town

and you didnt want to move
content in a dingy hotel room

all i could think was that
it was st. patricks day,

and i was in another country,
i wanted to get up and go

and i dont know what snapped
in you on st. paticks day,

but i was in a dress, ready to go,
and you knocked me down

i remember being knocked on to
one of those hotel beds

in my panty hose and dress,
and you strangled me

it was like you were in the war again
and you were fighting to the death

but i thought we were on
the same side

why are you trying to hurt me

and like a bull dog that finally listened
to the commands of their master,

you finally stopped, and
there i was, your ally,

the one that sat in the trenches
with you all those years ago

torn panty hose, bloody knees

i never thought youd fight
one of your buddies, i swear

*

i got out and called for back up
in the hotel lobby

at the pay phone an older woman
came up to me, asking
if i was all right

her question stopped me
from hyperventilating

i looked down at my torn hose,
bloody knees

and I said,
im fine

*

i just knew i had to get out of there
before more shells fell