Down Time

Posted on 03 November 2009

Sun bakes the mud spills make
in the sand. Hajis launch white phosphorous
over the wall and burn
their own men.
Fluorescents blink
then hum again.
In the lulls, we play
war games with cards
and laugh at our kills.
The day that Christmas rain churns,
I catch drops on my tongue like snow.
A mom must have mailed the plastic wreath
tied to the grille,
allowed for a day.
A picture: me and shell casings, empty turret,
a dark local mustachioed with abandon
smiling sideways
at my blue eyes.
Other ghosts.

No responses yet. You could be the first!

Leave a Response

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Avatar Review is proudly powered by WordPress and the SubtleFlux theme.

Copyright © Avatar Review