Tour Of Duty Poem by Gary Corseri

He wants a new language!

Ratta-tat-tat! Ratta-tat-tat!

The old one’s full of homonyms
That sound too much like war:

“Military-industrial”; “Humvee”;
“Bombs bursting in air”;
“Predator”; “duty … honor … country. …”

BAM! Ker-pling! Ka-boom! BAM!

Even “pride, ” even “love”–
Drafted into service.

Every word has a medal
Stapled on its buttocks.
Every word’s a hero
In an honor-guard casket
With a flag drooling over.

Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. …
S p l a t!

Armor-piercing bullets say,
“Accept the world as it is! ”
The shock and awe of their logic
Like cancer in children’s dreams.

Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom….
BAM!

Guns talk to guns–
A crimson tete-a-tete.
Nothing succeeds like excess.
Under the din of mourning–
Litigious sirens wail.

Snap! Crackle! Pop!

There is no light except for
Laser-guided missiles… and… possibly-

Whoosh! -

Enhanced night-vision goggles.