Scenes From the Battle of Us

　　by Cate Marvin

　　 You are like a war novel， entirely lacking

　　 female characters， except for an occasional

　　 letter that makes one of the men cry.

　　 I am like a table

　　 that eats its own legs off

　　 because it's fallen

　　 in love with the floor.

　　 My frantic hand can't find where my leg

　　 went. You can play the tourniquet. A tree

　　 with white limbs will grow here someday.

　　 Or maybe a pup tent

　　 that's collapsed in on itself，

　　 it so loves the sleep

　　 of men sleeping beneath it.

　　 The reason why women dislike war movies

　　 may have something to do with why men hate

　　 romantic comedies： they are both about war.

　　 Perhaps I should

　　 live in a pig's trough.

　　 There， I'd be wanted.

　　 There， I'd be tasted.

　　 When the mail bag drops from the sky

　　 and lands heavy on the jungle floor， its letters

　　 are prepared to swim away with your tears.

　　 One letter reads：

　　 I can barely feel

　　 furtive. The other：

　　 I am diminishing.

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