Classic Toy
The plastic army men are always green.
They’re caught in awkward poses,
one arm outstretched as if to fire,
legs parted and forever stuck on a swiggle
of support, as rigid and green as the boots.
This one has impressions of pockets,
a belt, a collar, a grip on tiny binoculars
intended to enlarge, no doubt, some
tiny enemy.
In back, attached to the belt is a canteen
or a grenade (it’s hard to tell). The helmet
is pulled down low, so as to hide the eyes.
If I point the arm, the gun, toward me,
I see that this soldier is very thin.
It’s almost unreal, how thin he is.
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2012 by Mary M. Brown, who is working on a collection of poems about John Steinbeck. Poem reprinted from Third Wednesday, Vol. 4, Issue 3, by permission of Mary M. Brown and the publisher.