Gottdammit, gentlemen,
the old Nazi swore
in a nightmare accent,
master my art
before it masters you.
The garrote, he shouted,
Works quiet and quick.
Make the loop on your approach,
flip it over the head,
slam your knee into Charlie’s balls,
yank downward to the bone
in one eye’s blink.
Sure, smartass, you can break a neck
with a choke hold, he grinned,
but you better know what you’re doing.
For a night kill in a village,
he half whispered,
use a snub nose.
It’s small, light, perfect
for crawling next to the target,
blasting a hollow point
directly through the ear.
Gottdammit, gentlemen, he screamed
until he must have had blood on his throat,
I want to buy a beer some day
in a bar in Cleveland .
Make that weapon a part of your body.
Let the steel of your bayonet
lead you forward.
Don’t get it stuck in the ribs, stupid!
When you thrust,
shove it up under sternum,
shove it hard enough
so the last sound he makes
is nothing more than a sigh.
I still hear him screaming at me
To move faster – idiot! –
my grandmother’ll outlive you,
taunting me in his hoarse voice
to sneak up from behind in the dark
and rob Death of another set of ears.