Audrey Burk, Guest Author
The first time I saw you
Was 18 years ago today.
I would have known you anywhere.
You’d been so close so long.
I looked at you through tears and twilight sleep
Fulfilled
Years have vanished like breath.
Vignettes flash by one hundred frames a minute.
Little fists kneading as you nursed.
Your dad tossing you in the air, laughing
Baptism, Sunday school
You in a coonskin cap and Davy Crockett suit
Toy soldiers, war games
That crazy-shaped red, cowboy hat
Kindergarten
Dogs killed a rabbit on the playground; you got sick
Cub Scouts
Mountain vacations when my heart stopped at your daring
Christmas, a blue bike
Cars
Girls
Dances
Today I bake another cake,
You sign up for the draft.
The man you are fills out the forms.
A lady asks the questions:
“Are you opposed to war?”
You answer, “Isn’t everyone?”
And sign.

Komen