sniping from the hills,
bullets like words
words like daggers
enter in her ears;
they are in the same regiment
supporting the same cause
but there is conflict
amongst the ranks;
so i fly down my helicopter
and i tell them to
"break it up"
but the sniping continues
and i want to stop it
but i'm afraid of getting hit
so i just sit
in my helicopter and say nothing
later on she laughs too loud
and his voice is too low
and he asks too many questions
and she says she needs to;
but all i could think was
sitting invisible on the stairs
listening to sniper fire
and wondering
how the hell we're
supposed to get out of this mess.
they tell me the cause is just.
but i don't believe that.
so many years
so many lives
so much money
wasted on one spectacular failure.
when people look at me
i will wear my pin and wave my flag
and pretend i am supporting the cause.
but really
in my mind i am condemning her.
2 comments:
the metaphor works.
this poem is really quite amazing.
it also is sad.
are 90% of your poems about the vietnam war, or do i just think they are?
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