Magazine | July 11, 2016, Issue

Poetry

FIREBIRD

The Phan Rang fields first heard about my autumn birth

from helicopters hovering over Vietnam.

My father, nicely hidden from a hostile bomb,

was told through rasping speakers, on a crisping earth.

That news, which should have cheered, left little room for mirth,

revealing his position in the rice and palm

between Bandito Charlie and Ohio Tom,

while calling into question its announcer’s worth.

Strategically incautious, at the very least;

a sentimental act of indiscretion –

how could such a lapse in judgment have occurred?

I hope perhaps to be a signal to the East

that here was one whose fate would fall to its possession,

whose name came through the heavens, from a Firebird.

In This Issue

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Politics & Policy

Letters

Accentuate the Negative Ramesh Ponnuru addresses a question that is probably not going to go away after this election, namely: What do you do when you decide you have to vote ...
Politics & Policy

The Week

‐ Now that Garrison Keillor is retired, he will probably spend most of his time propounding cranky political opinions and telling long, dreary stories. ‐ Since clinching the GOP nomination, Donald ...
Politics & Policy

Poetry

FIREBIRD The Phan Rang fields first heard about my autumn birth from helicopters hovering over Vietnam. My father, nicely hidden from a hostile bomb, was told through rasping speakers, on a crisping earth. That news, ...

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