Night Sweats
by Michael A. Maggiotto


A timpani pounds in my chest,
suffocating the command; eyes

shut on darkness see green shirts oozing
salsa crumple to the paddy mud; ears

deaf to the rustle of sycamores hear
hissing shells and sucking gurgles; fingers

numb to the sheets that cover me tighten
web tourniquets above severed limbs;

I breathe a morning dew of napalm's
char until I stand with them again






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