She lies
Reclined, Prone and paralyzed.
Her Hair strewn through the bed
Lying like straw on top of the waves of the wrinkled sheet.
One eye is open; the other gouged out and replaced with
Magazine clippings and Promotions from Vogue
Cosmo
And Time.
Vomit has spilled upon her hospital gown
Her attendant must’ve not noticed the
Red white and blue liquid that is sliding its way across her body
Like a blinded child exploring the world.

Her mouth gapes wide, and the air that’s gasped in
Is only momentarily entertained by the powder white of
The few teeth she has left.

And just as quickly as her lover nine months prior
The air Exhales and the sustenance it gave all but disappears in one
Crying, screaming moan.

Oh, her child. The doctor bearing Fatigue gloves for Latex
cuts the umbilical cord with a bayonet.
The m16 and helmet lie on the operating table.
The Doctor quickly mentions
“It’s a boy”
And disappears, cradling the soldier.


He learns to kill

Before he speaks.