Identity Theft

My memory was reprogrammed by Mayo Clinic team;
every lingering battle scar, each shell-shock episode
merged into oblivion so they could do no further harm.
Oppressing were those memories that wandered to and fro
reacting with weighty regret, incising like a saber
in obsessive compulsive flashback the battle at Hanoi,
earthborn corporeal matter scattered randomly by mine,
scattered buckshot of starlight to indicate Heaven’s abyss.

Reconnoitering now, in my mind many years later,
evil outs even when the best intentions come to serve.
Planned, this memory manipulation, a brand new map
realigning paths used handily by stress disorder,
or blowing up the bridges post traumatic happened to,
gaining peace without the flash the lance of shrapnel stinging
(red-soaked sod and rifle fire, mortar, the rocket’s roar)
again and again as per want in memory’s arena.
Mix me a drink of something hard, like Granddad or Jim Beam;
(many times the end results become unpleasant dream.)
Eagles overlook the vultures circling the dead en masse;
death is just as certain when altering one’s state of mind.

20 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
1-5-15