Escalation of Force

Escalation of Force

We never marched into trenches made of mud-soaked ridden rot and rats

            woodbones of ziggedzagged mice, lice, and glory—No Man’s Land           

advancing across cratered terrain with hundreds       thousands        of hatesweat killing

machinemen. Trudging trench knives sharpened with wetted stones. Waiting to feel the crunch and pop between the 2^nd and 3^rd rib bones.

One bomb is too much to live through—millions shift to shadows stenciled in cement

                        grasped in the knuckles of                  God doesn’t do justice.

We write of war in the essence of its struggle
Like waking up to bodies                   dead and hollowed and not,                don’t let the inner war of oneself

to live—

to fight the good wavy struggle of life. Don’t let that fight die.

The guns blasting into the                   night    guiding us down like a biplane,

ripple-holed and spu spu sputtering down

            Our selfie banners       still marquee   showing allegiance to ourselves, to our flag.

Be my brother and take this gun out of my mouth. Be my lover—

soul>body

           

We kicked doors down and said get the fuck on the ground with a .556 barrel thump to the chest              exit wounds pumping blood between our gloved fingers  they took a break         when Doc called it, and I could have taken my camera and focused on his face—

            but I looked at his shoes, thrown on sandals

probably just out to catch a ride home…. and we yelled

Ogaf!

we shined lasers                      we shout, shove, show, shot to warn, shot to kill.