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
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