Faye Sizemore


Hot blood was running down my face
in July… nineteen and sixty-eight…
my heart stood still and tried not to hate
Asian jungles that threatened my life to take
For in the hills around Da Nang
were nightmares that made my soul ache
while in the streets of home…
the peace protesters did roam
and march under the dove’s wing
not understanding nary a thing…
and I know the verses of Frost
were certainly lost
and Poe’s had a certain reality
I may have killed some gooks
but made no ear vine specialty
The kill ratio is still unknown to me
I guess it was sent for others to see
I killed no babies on any day
and no innocent people did I slay
I did not stop to look for salvation
I was much too busy staying alive to care
I did my time in `sixty eight… and by the way..
I don’t believe that I saw you there…

Author’s Note: Written in reply to another’s poem of how ashamed he was to be an American in the year 1968…