Nineteen guys died twice
The second time around
As practiced whores in death
We saw them go down in red flames
And thousands died with them
We know the nineteen names
And the counted thousands all have names
The first time around
The nineteen virgin deaths did not disturb us
Perhaps they went down one by one
More likely nameless thousands fell with them,
And perish daily, uncounted
The walking dead, waiting to die again
Beyond rescue them or us
They cannon fodder in a field of fire
Us the sickly sweet smell of death twice around
To die first for hate or hurt
And then again in the rocket’s red glare
To be meticulously counted
And gloriously mourned
Yeah, nineteen guys died twice.
At least! We saw it only once
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Raymond Thomas was born in Guyana. He received his PhD in Chemistry at Texas A&M and now works in industry. He resides in Lockport, NY where he enjoys the four seasons, writes short stories, and poetry.
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Raymond Thomas was born in Guyana. He received his PhD in Chemistry at Texas A&M and now works in industry. He resides in Lockport, NY where he enjoys the four seasons, writes short stories, and poetry.
