The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
4 comments:
Scott, I am continually amazed at the depth of your thought process. You are awesome. MUM
All I can say is "What?" Ok, I'm done!
Except to say that I'm still waiting for a comment or two from you on my blog! Get with it dude!
Disturbing to read at bedtime.....ps. thanks for the internet! Sweetbriar is broken, and my computer connected to netweb!!! heh heh heh!!!
Mike told me to stop by and read this poem....hmmm. Oh! And thanks for the internet. I'm so glad it's back! :)
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