In Country

Gabby
I screamed out for you
Under
A blood burning moon
And all I
Could see was mortar rounds
Cutting
Into opulent stars
Exposed fat drooled out
From my mouth shaped wound
And flowed in the paddies all ready stained
In Quang Tri provincial, Indian Country rain
Mixture creating ambush manure
For a brown rice stronghold, Viet Cong owned home
Methodically the medic snaked to my side
Put his hand to my face, put an end to my voice
“Stop screaming, Chief. It’s just a fucking scratch.”

But I was leaking electricity
through my ribcage. Field dressing swells
like punji snake infection in a pond of spring
Engorged by the form of the melted plains
With a furious desire to deedee open holes
Gashed in the country by our C.O.’s
They hide what blooms abject and naked
Their fingers in my flesh now awakened