Dani Sandal
Soldier’s Gemini Dream
He wakes stooped in paddy, basket of ripe
Rice slung cross his young breast. A mother,
Who is not his mother, whispers, Hien from
Another world. Quiet. Rising, turning toward
Click of clip set to chamber, he sees his self –
Daniel, Judged by God, who is not his God.
Lay it down . . . there is no conception of order.
No give of basket or rifle, which impart life
In 1969―he is so much more beautiful
And hideous than he remembers. Part of him
Sifted grains through weave like drowning doves.
Part of him collected burned bones of ancestors
From the shallow wreckage of his rage. And part of
Him died from that, and part of him dies with this.
Here, the whole of him weeps as his finger contracts
And their heart explodes, opening like a horrid rose.
Dani Sandal is the past recipient of The Heritage Award in Fiction (GMU-MFA) and the Text and Community Award for blue collar voices (Virginia). She had a great time as the fiction editor for So To Speak, and lately (2012 or forthcoming) you can read her in the Raleigh Review, Adirondack Review, THRUSH Poetry Journal, Puerto del Sol, Monkeybicycle, Mad Hatter's Review, PANK, and Stirring. She lives on an island in the Puget Sound and has the continuous pleasure of raising the coolest kid ever, Holden.
Return to September 2013 Edition
He wakes stooped in paddy, basket of ripe
Rice slung cross his young breast. A mother,
Who is not his mother, whispers, Hien from
Another world. Quiet. Rising, turning toward
Click of clip set to chamber, he sees his self –
Daniel, Judged by God, who is not his God.
Lay it down . . . there is no conception of order.
No give of basket or rifle, which impart life
In 1969―he is so much more beautiful
And hideous than he remembers. Part of him
Sifted grains through weave like drowning doves.
Part of him collected burned bones of ancestors
From the shallow wreckage of his rage. And part of
Him died from that, and part of him dies with this.
Here, the whole of him weeps as his finger contracts
And their heart explodes, opening like a horrid rose.
Dani Sandal is the past recipient of The Heritage Award in Fiction (GMU-MFA) and the Text and Community Award for blue collar voices (Virginia). She had a great time as the fiction editor for So To Speak, and lately (2012 or forthcoming) you can read her in the Raleigh Review, Adirondack Review, THRUSH Poetry Journal, Puerto del Sol, Monkeybicycle, Mad Hatter's Review, PANK, and Stirring. She lives on an island in the Puget Sound and has the continuous pleasure of raising the coolest kid ever, Holden.
Return to September 2013 Edition