THROUGH A HELICOPTER DOOR

Turn back if you haven’t the stomach.

It’s not like the war on television.

Oil’s smeared on the air.

Rotors kick you in the teeth

with dust and rock.

The next thing you know

you’re on the ground

screaming for people.

You crawl and crawl

but the only place to hide

is what you said goodbye to

when you became of age.

 
 
 
 
 

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