Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Counting Soldiers

I am counting soldiers
one by one.
In the field
and in the home.
They are piling up
outside my door
like old newspapers
I have forgotten to throw out.
Their blood and bones
are mine.
Their wounds are etched in my skin
like ugly tattoos
I can not erase.
Their graves are my graves.
In the morning when I step into my bath
it is their blood I bathe in
warm and salty.
It is their eyes I see in the mirror
when I look at myself.
It is their voices I hear
wailing outside my window
when I try to sleep at night.
It is their shoes I walk in
as I make my way down the hall
to piss.