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Rocket in his Pocket

 

                                                                                                                                               

It was a real rocket, albeit antique,

tested at the White Sands Proving Ground

the army built in the Jornada del Muerto

desert not far from Socorro, New Mexico.

 

Jornada del Muerto means journey of death

and Socorro is how you scream for help.

 

The enlisted men wore sunglasses.

They might as well have been

in a three-D porn house.

 

When my wife died--before

her time—my friends said,

“Be grateful you have your children.”

 

My daughter looked down

at her shoes while the doctor

explained and he looked

down at his and I at mine--

all those fascinating shoes.

 

You can see how even

with a thing as simple as sex,

it’s easy to be derailed.

Imagine abolishing

nuclear weapons.

David Romtvedt is a writer of poetry, fiction, and essays. His last book of poetry was Some Church from Milkweed. His novel Zelestina Urza in Outer Space which follows the lives of two women in northern Wyoming—a Basque immigrant and a half Cheyenne, half Arapaho orphan—will be published in 2015 by the University of Nevada Center for Basque Studies.  He plays dance music of the Americas with the Fireants—last cd is It’s Hot—About Three Weeks a Year.

David Romtvedt

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