Another battle ends.
The wounded lay facedown,
Ally and foe,
Choking on carpet.
The screwdriver enters
Their convenient wounds mid-back.
Several twists later
And the patients are opened up—
Their rubber intestines exposed;
Plastic parts ready for swapping.
These quasi-casualties of war
Mechanically reassembled
With new heads, new arms,
New kung-fu grips.
Recruitment begins on the morrow
For both sides.
3 comments:
Sometimes I miss being a kid. Have a good weekend all.
You mean I have to grown up?
You are a master at duality in your writing. I see this in everything you write now. It's a style I admire. The "rubber intestines" and the line "recruitment begins on the morrow" are my favorites. This poems demonstrates both the novelty and seriousness of war death and how "playful" and abstract it all is. I keep thinking of how the media uses toys and models to demonstrate war strategies... I guess this alone detaches us more from the real thing.
I like the last line. As lame, childish, and perverse as it sounds I still have all of my GI Joes, and a bag with a ton of spare Joe parts. One day I am going to sit down and reanimate "both sides"
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