Dear Major,
I loaded the cd of Jalalabad that you copied
for me. Scenes of the desert flipped
on my screen and army men, all men:
the women aren't allowed where you drove
so far up Afghanistan's ass. The screen showed
black over and over with a little white script
in the center that read, "drawing failed."
It was then I saw that the picture of the American soldier
didn't copy. He was lying on his back in the dust
with metal sticking out of his gut like a black flag.
You told me not to save that scene
because he died - but I tried to, for
the same reason you snapped it -
because it happened.
Sincerely,
Beth Mink
Copyright 2007 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.
All rights remain the exclusive property of the individual poet and may not be used without their permission.