For old Billy Dugan, shot in the ass in the Civil War, my father said.
The old wound in my ass
has opened up again, but I
am past the prodigies
of youth-s campaigns, and weep
where I used to laugh
in war-s red humors, half
in love with silly-assed pains
and half not feeling them.
I have to sit up with
an indoor unsittable itch
before I go down late
and weeping to the storm-
cellar on a dirty night
and go to bed with the worms.
So pull the dirt up over me
and make a family joke
for Old Billy Blue Balls,
the oldest private in the world
with two ass-holes and no
place more to go to for a laugh
except the last one. Say:
The North won the Civil War
without much help from me
although I wear a proof
of the war-s obscenity.
Fabrication Of Ancestors
Alan Dugan
(1)
Poem topics: family, father, night, red, world, blue, joke, place, storm, dirty, youth, private, love, I love you, laugh, war, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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