Trench Warfare from an Ignorant Perspective, pt. 2
by Alexander Johns


It was urgent.
Every short move up
was an advance
toward home,
and our hatred
for where we were
made us bold.
Heat was clinging
to metal and tar.
The voice on the radio
failed to brighten
shell-shocked stares;
we had to move up.

One was unafraid.
I saw his war face.
His fist was raised
as he flew forward
and cut across
right into flying steel,
and metal-crushing force
took his body apart,

and he died instantly
with a curse on his lips
like a soldier.






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