[the Writing of Kuypers]
met up with you at a hotel
we talked like old friends,
who fought in a war together
while sitting in a trench together
it was st. patrick’s day,
even though you lived far away
it was st. patrick’s day,
in the bath tub, like a little boy,
not even flinching that i was there
it was st. patrick’s day,
and you didn’t want to move
all i could think was that
and i was in another country,
and i don’t know what snapped
but i was in a dress, ready to go,
i remember being knocked on to
in my panty hose and dress,
it was like you were in the war again
but i thought we were on
why are you trying to hurt me
and like a bull dog that finally listened
you finally stopped, and
the one that sat in the trenches
torn panty hose, bloody knees
i never thought you’d fight
*
i got out and called for back up
at the pay phone an older woman
her question stopped me
i looked down at my torn hose,
and I said,
*
i just knew i had to get out of there
[JanetKuypers.com][Bio][Poems][Prose]
Flooded War Memories
it was st. patrick’s day,
went to another country to see you
it was like we were never apart
old war-time veterans
who shared our life stories
waiting for a bomb to strike
and everything seemed normal
and right
and even though we had different
life plans
i remember you laying down
splashing and playing in the water,
talking to you, naked in the tub
i wanted to get out, see the town
content in a dingy hotel room
it was st. patrick’s day,
i wanted to get up and go
in you on st. patick’s day,
and you knocked me down
one of those hotel beds
and you strangled me
and you were fighting to the death
the same side
to the commands of their master,
there i was, your ally,
with you all those years ago
one of your buddies, i swear
in the hotel lobby
came up to me, asking
if i was all right
from hyperventilating
bloody knees
i’m fine
before more shells fell
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