Silent Casualty

The dust rises and you squint your eyes, a storm of debris swirling you back to sand dunes, rocket launches, and IEDs. Sounds become muffled under all the yelling, and I look to see if I can see the enemy, too. He must be nearby, because your agitation grows, tangibly filling the room with wide eyes darting, flushed skin, and demands for immediate assessments of perceived threats. Grid-like coordinates mulled over—scanning trips to the grocery store, and why am I fifteen minutes late? Constant explosions surround us, and I start to lose my way. Eyes fixed on me, because no other enemy can be found, I seek shelter inside a poem.