Something I forgot about Nam...a poem.

Something I forgot about 'Nam.

I remember,
the red clay trail
separating the village
and a bamboo grove, shaded
by a canopy of green leaves
of grey sky.

I remember,
the bite of the pack straps,
the scuffed toes of my boots
the rhythm of half full canteens
dancing on my hips.

I remember,
the incoming rounds
snapping like dry branches,
their hard breath
like wasp wings
against my cheeks.

I remember,
turning towards the shots,
resenting the red neckerchiefs
of the two snipers.
The rifle jumping
in my hands.

I remember,
seeing the slack heap
that was my friend
lying in the trail
and I turned away.

I forgot,
how puzzling it was,
that his forehead should rest
upon his chest and that his
severed spine should stand,
glistening, from his shirt
like a scarecrow frame.

I forgot,
blood shooting
from his empty collar
in weakening spurts,
sprinkling the widening puddle
like a sad rain.

I forgot,
the dark opening
of his unhinged head.
How his shoulders
turned black
with the wetness.

I forgot,
as soon as I looked away.

I had to.