Deadman at my Door

I remember you—the Company Medic
who dressed my shrapnel wounds
at the battle of Chosin Rseservoir in‘50.
You look too indistinct to be ghostly,
a body transparent with glazed eyes
that don’t seem to be seeing anything.
What can I do for you?
I need you to order me some supplies:
Call Amazon Prime and have them deliver
to our main gate the following items:
Band-aids, aspirin and Dulcolax because
of an epidemic of constipation.
The population is not getting enough exercise
since so many sprout wings and fly around
causing their muscles to atrophy.
Also, if you can get to the Kasbah in Casablanca,
order us a dozen flying carpets since the self-driving
electric cars can’t make the trips that are light years away.
And don’t forget a compass since the GPS doesn’t work here.
As soon as I promise to satisfy all of his requests, he vanishes.

Milton P. Ehrlich Ph.D. is an 89-year-old psychologist and a veteran
of the Korean War. He has published poems in Poetry Review, The
Antigonish Review, London Grip, Arc Poetry Magazine, Descant Literary
Magazine, Wisconsin Review, Red Wheelbarrow, and the New York Times.


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