Across the Gangplank

I walked across the gangplank,

Onto that all too familiar ship,

Knowing all too well

That I could tumble
Into very deep holds.

I walked across anyway.
I slipped on an unkindess

Of loose and slippery thoughts

That shoved me down

Ladders and passageways,
Headlong into violent memories.
Memories that I had thrown,

And re-thrown,

Over and over again,

Into that very deep hold

Far below decks

Under the chain locker
Of my busy life.

The memories tied my naked body down.
They sewed my eyelids

Wide, wide, wide open

With threads of tiny jagged seasalt.

They poured a waterfall of sharp,

Stinging visions
Of soldiers running,
Of Hueys zooming to and fro,
Of MiGs screeching overhead
Of our five-inch gun blasting
Over and over and over again,

Over my face until I cried,
Stop!

Oh please stop!
I don’t want to see this again.
I don’t want to feel this again.
I don’t want to die like this again.