I Want to Feel the Choke in My Throat by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

Misplaced Honor for my Grandfather on Memorial Day by Robert Gibbons

I Want to Feel the Choke in My Throat

Flags draped bleeding reds, right through
the whites of our blindfolded eyes,
like a cold that never wants to leave you;
grieving tears now censored blues,
color bar taps keeps playing through
detaching away from microphone
and evening news. The edited horns
from the airplane hanger leave us
wanting more; waiting for our invisible
hearts, all medaled in purple, our families,
our soldiers, now strangers finally
arrive to this place they called home.
Too quiet buried deep from the top
storied newswire. Too explosive?
Why witness our casualties
from this desert storm? More
than sand in our cries, no need
to check the stats in the sports
section: we keep losing this score.
Too many lined up, faceless divisions,
fallen blacked out without national
attention, so much more violent,
with our forces armed, the end seemed
even closer than we actually appeared;
mirrors keep cracking cold from the last
words he swore, just like an addictive
smoker keeps asking with friendly fires,
what were we relighting for? All of this
stillness through marches like matches
fading from the distance, still, no one
will witness, never easy watching
the breeze disguising this now disgusted
draft, once was so much louder, under
our muzzled buried caskets; must
this frozen outside feeling,
standing for all their honor—
fighting our silent coffin war.

Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

for Sam Edwards


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Bio: Adrian Ernesto Cepeda is an L.A. Poet who’s lived the writer’s life, traveling on The Road Not Taken, immortalized by Robert Frost. His work has been featured in Luna Luna Magazine’s Latino Poetry Project, Transcendence Magazine The Rain, Party, & Disaster Society and Purrfect Poetry Anthology. Adrian is currently enrolled in the MFA Graduate program at Antioch University in Los Angeles where he lives with his wife and their adorably spoiled cat Woody Gold.


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