We heard two bursts

from an M-16:

One long, one short.

He must of stood

blocking the office door,

a Wolfhound

of the killer battalion

just in from the field,

the barrel of his weapon

in the other man’s face:

I done like you said, First Sergeant,

the beard too, the moustache too.

Now look and tell me

I ain’t no fightin’ man.
Contents / Next Poem / Published Works 

By | 2012-01-17T21:45:46+00:00 December 27th, 2011|The Eye Of The Ghost|0 Comments