Three Poems by Roger Pemberton

    21st Amendment

I’ve become addicted to the pain

Not because it replaces something that

my life is missing, though it does, but

because I have truly come to love it.

The nights spent with my memories

are like a drug. As time passes my

soul craves more

and more - The usual images are

not enough so I dig

deeper to find those that had been

pushed aside by the more prominent

events of us.

The day we spent at the lake

going over her work schedules -

The night at that bar in Fayetteville

where we could finally be ourselves

and it took us over an hour

to finally decide that it was not, in fact,

a gay bar - Though we would have

had a great time either way

because in that place nobody

knew us and she was free

to rest her hand on my leg.

Faceless

Next time you'll notice the child sitting

upon a pile of rubble waiting

for a passerby to acknowledge him.

You've seen him before, never aging,

the same place every time.

You saw him in Saigon, a look of

wonderment and fear in his eyes -

While soldiers walked past pushing

through the area on their way

to collect their dead.

You saw him in Beirut, though

you can't swear he was alive.

His skin was black as charcoal

and he was missing half of his leg.

His eyes followed you like that painting

of Jesus your grandmother kept on the mantle.

You saw him in Kuwait City watching

the transport vehicles leaving his neighborhood.

There are no other civilians around - You

wonder why he is still there.  Perhaps

he has nowhere left to go.

You saw him again in Samarra - His body

painted red by the splash of peace keepers.

Those lying around him were liberated -

of their lives in the crossfire.

He was somehow spared this fate yet

you wonder what his fate will be now.

You do not know his name or his story -

Wondering what may happen to him only

brings you down so you forget him as soon

as the news anchor switches stories and

facial expressions.

             Her

I want to crawl inside of you

and discover all the things

that you hide from the light

Afraid to find happiness

for fear of the

loss of a life that has

drained the brightness

from your eyes