Collection by Dennis Etzel Jr.

The War in the Bully Boss

…………………………………..for my father

………………………………………………As if the first day at McDonald’s isn’t like burning grease

………………………………………………splattered across an arm, my boss made it clear, he was a Navy

………………………………………………vet of Vietnam and ran a tight shift.  Is this an insubordination?

………………………………………………he asked, as no one wanted to be discharged dishonorably,

………………………………………………their name on the not-hirable list. No going AWOL, either. I messed

………………………………………………up somehow, was told to wash the tiles, the lights with their

………………………………………………hum of cicadas, then the bathroom doors as a punishment.

………………………………………………Similar to when, returning from The War, first day on the job

………………………………………………as a firefighter, you were told to wash the ceiling. As you were

………………………………………………busy with soapy hot water, and that Fire Chief said, You missed

………………………………………………a spot, I wished I could have laid out my fire as you did when

………………………………………………you took that sponge, threw it hard like a grenade to hit him in

………………………………………………the face. When I signed up, not prepared to fight, but still eager

………………………………………………to show I was a good soldier, I continued scrubbing, to scrub at

………………………………………………the marks that wouldn’t come off.

The War in Grunge

………………………….When his uncle is drafted to Vietnam, Kurt Cobain’s parents say

…………………………..Kurt’s imaginary friend Boddah is drafted too.

………………………………………………Times I catch myself calling myself stupid. Here I am, in The

………………………………………………War, somehow part of it, without decision. Lighten up. In The

………………………………………………War, our lights go out. The War is contagious. With the lights

………………………………………………less dangerous we are now out, lit. Lights as us. We are us now

………………………………………………and it’s dangerous. Stupid, here we are now.

The War in Little League Baseball

…………………………….“Kurt Cobain would intentionally strike out to avoid

……………………………..playing on the team.”

………………………………………………My coach calls it my mean face, staring down the pitcher with

………………………………………………an anger I conjure so I won’t need to take a swing at a

………………………………………………poorly-thrown ball. My father helps coach, too, says, Good job,

………………………………………………as I take my walk to first base. Sometimes The War jokes with

………………………………………………me, that I am that boy hiding in the outfield, wounds hidden

………………………………………………with a baseball cap pulled over my eyes. Pulled over

………………………………………………everyone’s. Wound up, the pitch, the ball already coming at

………………………………………………me, this one hits me hard. Let that be a lesson, The War says. 

The War in Surprise

………………………………………………You would be surprised what you can do when you put that

………………………………………………uniform on. You would be surprised to hear you could leave

………………………………………………Vietnam on the GI Bill. You would be surprised to know

………………………………………………people could spend their hours sunbathing in the Long Binh

………………………………………………Base alongside other REMFs. Surprise attack. The riser rises of

………………………………………………spies, the issuer of uprise, to err. US. RIP.

The War in the Silence

……………………………………..“My silence has a mother in it and summer

……………………………………….refuses to move on.”

              ………………………………………………..    —Alen Hamza

………………………………………………My body surrenders to Christmastime because of the silence.

………………………………………………Like in fairy tales, an angry father in the summer turns into a

………………………………………………subdued one in winter, no stirring, he makes not a sound. The

………………………………………………sun doesn’t burn. No hint of The War, no bruises. How do I

………………………………………………dare speak when the quiet room is full of relatives? I played the

………………………………………………one-way sign in the school play. like many of us descendants.

………………………………………………All is calm, all is bright. Shame sounds like the blinking of

………………………………………………Christmas tree lights. They played “White Christmas” to signal

………………………………………………the evacuation of Saigon, Bing Crosby singing, in between the

………………………………………………skip of the record, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming.

Dennis Etzel Jr. (he/him) lives with his spouse Carrie and their five boys in Topeka, Kansas where he teaches English at Washburn University. He has numerous books, including My Secret Wars of 1984 (BlazeVOX 2015) which was selected by The Kansas City Star as a Best Poetry Book of 2015. His work has appeared in Denver Quarterly, Indiana Review, FUGUE, Puerto del Sol, 1913: a journal of poetic forms, Tarpaulin Sky, DIAGRAM, and others.

13 January 2022