Out Damn Spot
by Carl Josehart
Out, out damn spot
the weary laundress mumbles
to no one present to hear
wrinkled hands scraped raw from scrubbing
blood too stubborn a stain
falls like rain
in this endless war
The uniforms must be clean
demands the decorated well pressed General
creased and starched
to recycle
with another clean
young
blond kid
too young to buy liquor
who should be wrecking his father’s car
and skipping lectures at an
Iowa college
Studying agriculture
Out, out damn spot
when will we reach the day
when weapons lie and rust
buried beneath a demilitarized zone
covered with dust
or beaten to plowshares
to pry life from parched land
should it be unreasonable
to make war unthinkable
and waging it treasonable
Out, out damn spot
wiping sweat from her brow with a feeble hand
mutters the weary laundress
to no one there to hear
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