45 Years Later

A Poem by Devlin De La Chapa.

he still talks about the hill,
going up the hill
coming down the hill
not Hamburger hill
just a hill, in the middle of a place
displaced by war’s chemicals
combative to communism
combative within himself
exasperated with his past
guarded of everyone, everything
his soul, a piper cub
flying high on a Monsanto and Dow dream
dispensing all that was once beautiful and sacred
clutching on dog tags from within an eternal nightmare
of an unborn son

(for Dennis Dermody, forty-five years later)

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