Driving south on Highway 89
along the west shore of Lake Cayuga
from Seneca Falls to Ithaca,
listening to a thin crackle of radio
before it’s lost beyond the hill:
Ken Burns is telling Terry Gross
the story of the Vietnam War
in three photographs —
A South Vietnamese general executing
a suspected North Vietnamese spy
just like walking down the street,
the moment the bullet strikes the brain
(why were we there, taking sides?)
A naked girl on fire, fleeing
her napalmed village
(the futile horrors we inflicted)
A young woman crouched over her dying friend,
shot by the National Guard at Kent State
(the war on our brothers and sisters at home)
and I say we and our because to see the photos
on the front page of every hometown newspaper
made us all complicit in the violence.
