Poem for Stillness
He stirs his tea with a gun barrel
He solves the puzzle with a gun barrel
He scratches his thoughts with a gun barrel
And sometimes
he sits facing himself
and pulls bullet-memories
out of his brain
He's fought in many wars
but is no match for his own despair
These white pills
have left him so colorless
his shadow must stand up
to fetch him water
We ought to accept
that no soldier
has never returned
from war
alive
___________________
Garous Abdolmalekian
Lean Against This Late Hour
Penguin, 2020
