by Robert Gryfft
I'm not shot.
Stay down, catch my breath, blindly toss a grenade. I squeeze my eyes shut as hot metal and bits of bone tear through space inches away.
I''ve taken my third life of the day without so much as a pang of emotion.
I'll have time to regret it when I get home.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Nam Deus Et Patria
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