The Major

Excerpt

As he entered the room

A blend of bugles could be heard,

Or should have been,

To the Colors

For here was a cavalryman.

Standing straight and slowly moving

He declined my chair

And uncomfortably I took his history, also standing.

Only months later as we stood

Did he casually comment that the bone pain

Never let him sit,

Never.

The bony metastases of prostate remained untreated

By his command

(How could a man who'd heard the bugle charge consider castration, estrogens or drugs?) After he'd died

I could still hear the bugles blend

Not taps, but

To the Colors.