Matt Macdonald

 

 

 

Luxembourg, 1942 

 

 

If he could tell you

he would say that

it feels nothing like falling asleep

there is no well lit cinemascope

flashback of your life

he would say that

he remembered, not everything

not even necessarily the good things

the first time he walked into the Prospect Park Zoo

laughing as the elephant moms bathed their children

with water collected in their trunks

his grandmother eccentric as only

Italian heritage can give you

but maker of the most delicious

cheesecake east of the Hudson

and his brother, Steve, so burdened with life

except that one night on Coney Island

the sun painting across the sky in gold,

white, scarlet, lilac, fuchsia,

and the bluest sky he had ever seen,

until Luxembourg, first tour, 1942, 9th Infantry,

Private First Class 12123586

when a bullet took away his ability to walk

and he was carried on a makeshift stretcher

through a field of wheat, which

he had always thought sounded like the waves

but when the wind is in the right mood

the moving stalks sound somewhere between

stern and outright angry

as if the very earth was running out of space

to keep the blood

 

 

 

Matt Macdonald is an Edinburgh based poet, who performs across the Central Belt. He is currently in preparation for his first solo show in the Free Fringe, and his debut collection in June.

 

 

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