The body of an American paratrooper killed in action in the jungle near the Cambodian border is raised up to an evacuation helicopter (Henri Huet, 1966)

This body:
a question and broken
compass  North-pointing or ascending
and bruised like a savior

I mean the body is dead

Fully-clothed and suspended in a truth-
ful place

When I say truthful   I mean honest

as skin                                                          {A loose
tongue}   I’m saying
“obvious”   The body hides
nothing but prayer and low tide

retreating all
its breathless melody   Now: stiff
slow in its arch   I swear he is a black-
necked stork cascading

So sure   his mother will open
her wide-mouthed wail   jowls brimming
with iridescent plumage   Her body too

passing through
surrender

Ashaki M. Jackson is a Cave Canem poetry fellow and a member of the Voices of Our Nations Arts (VONA) writing community. Her work has appeared in publications including Eleven Eleven and Suisun Valley Review. She is also a social psychologist who works with teen girls throughout Greater Los Angeles.

Read an interview with Ashaki here.