Afghanistan
by Matthew Peter Ross


At the DMV, his daughter
clings to him like she'll never
let go. If memory serves,
she's about four years old.

Just back from another tour,
he doesn't recognize me.
To be honest, I don't recognize
the dark impatience in his eyes.

I want to say something—
talk about crops, complain
about last night's storm.
In the end, I leave him alone
with his daughter
and his memories of war.






Copyright 2019 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.