By J. A. Bernstein
When the war came,
it came to him in flashes,
abruptly, like something
convoluted
and dark:
a faint orange
light behind the cliffs
of Jahalin, a pear he once ate,
a remark
about how I’d be a soldier
(his girlfriend said)
if I were a man, yeah I’d go.
Copyright Bernstein 2012
J. A. Bernstein is currently a PhD candidate in the creative writing and literature program at the University of Southern California. His work has appeared in Harpur Palate, Crab Orchard Review, Western American Literature, Packingtown Review, and Anamesa, among other journals, and one poem won honorable mention in a graduate poetry contest at USC.
All work by J. A. Bernstein
