Heroes

Heroes


My father was a pilot in WWII.
I don't know how many missions he flew,
but he wanted me to hire a plane
after he died and scatter his remains

Over the farm of our next door neighbor
and mortal enemy. How could I not honor
my father's request? I called in favors
and a pilot friend and I played bomber,

Flew low, maybe ten feet above the barn,
and exploded my father all over the farm.
His ashes drifted onto the house and plows,
and settled nicely around three dairy cows.

Ah, I was grief-striken and thrilled.
My father would live on in his enemy's milk.


Sherman Alexie

from his book FACE.