My Dad called everyone Cap’
since his days as a grunt Marine.

He never spoke of Iwo but I knew
it disturbed him deeply, men from both sides
deep in red volcanic sand strewn about Mount Suribachi.

They passed around pure grain alcohol
on the landing crafts, some hit the beach
in a daze.

The Oldest Gyrine, they called him,
he enlisted when nearly 30, came home
to work in a bronze foundry, flamethrower hot,
my Dad the grunt Marine.

Chagall 2015 – Semper Fidelis