Desert Storm
Cold dark wind
Upon my face
The weathers
Turning bad
Black blizzard
On the horizon
The devils up
My sleeve
Starched memories
And fish hooks
I turned my back
On society
Bent upon a dream
Frozen bamboo
Across my legs
Toes that hardly
Scream.
Sleeting now
In this boat
Afloat upon a field
Left by O’Toole’s
Machinery and mill
Gobbling up arms
And legs
Baled all nice and neat
It’s so damn cold
I can’t feel my feet
Ankles, knees, and armory
A stinking IED
Crawling back to you
Schoolboy’s stupid schemes
A war that never killed
It just left me maimed
This desert storm
Left me all alone
Drunken and stoned.
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2013
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