Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
A Typewriter Maps the Battlefield of the Mind
Everyone
who survived began a book
In
basements, cheap apartments, or rented rooms
Underwoods
clattering in anger, in rage
For
corpses floating down the Vam Co Tay
Coffee
cups, beer rings, stolen motel ashtrays
Cigarette
smoke wreath around the keys
While
muses watched from the crumbling plaster wall
Maybe
a crucifix, maybe Miss March
Cheap
typing paper from the corner store
A
sandwich falling apart along with life
A
last assault through a paragraph
Before
rushing to the bus stop for the night shift
“Y’all
wasn’t in a real war,” the old men said
But
the memories and the typewriter keys
Still bled
