It was a peaceful night in June.
I was stationed with my platoon
on the unnamed planet’s unnamed moon.
I knew that just over that dune,
we would meet our doom.
Jimmy—I called him "Goon"—
he and I shared a room.
He was laughing like a loon
at some silly kid’s cartoon.
It wasn’t fair: he was only twenty-two.
I grimly stared at my fading tattoo.
Remembered things I didn’t want to get into.
We were supposed to advance the following afternoon.
The dusty, rocky ground would be covered with human maroon
and alien blue.
Sorry about this, everyone. Our group decided that the vowel sound we had to repeat throughout the poem was "ooo."ReplyDelete
Ooo, I see.ReplyDelete