Marilyn Johnston
My Husband Talks About COVID-19 as If He’s Still on Patrol
Anytime going out from the base camp,
you take your chance with snipers.
You take a risk, even all suited up
with night gear, thick flak jacket
and combat boots, M16 at the ready.
It’s hard to tell the difference between
friend or foe without a scope.
How they can trick you and kill you,
even if you have your helmet in place;
even with masks and gloves, you take
a chance with the things you can’t see.
All suited up, you could take a shot
in the neck or an artery hit in the leg,
somewhere that’s vital. So you cover
and lay low, even on base, where
a rocket can zero in and find you—
fear of friendly fire. Triage will become
unreliable, once overwhelmed with
casualties. And, again, it’s a matter
of luck or fate, who lives or dies. Now,
the helicopters are circling the perimeter
and someone has to be in charge,
ready to drop the red smoke grenades
to mark the landing zone. He’s on duty
once again, waking us, as he prepares
for an enemy that refuses to show its face.
—Submitted on
Marilyn Johnston is the author of Before Igniting (Rippling Brook Press, 2020) and Red Dust Rising (The Habit of Rainy Nights Press, 2004). Her work has appeared in CALYX, Natural Bridge, Poetica, War, Verseweavers, and other journals, as well as in a number of anthologies including Terra Incognita: Oregon Poets Write for Ecological, Social, Political, and Economic Justice (Bob Hill Publishing, 2019). Johnston teaches in the Salem Art Association’s Artists in the Schools program serving Marion, Polk and Yamhill counties.
Johnston writes, “I wrote this for my husband who views this pandemic through the lens of the Vietnam War he fought and brought home with him…as well as for other men and women who have experienced trauma, their PTSD resurfacing during these surreal times.”
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