Ways of Looking at an IED

1

Beside the field of potato rows,

Sumey sees an alarm clock

the potatoes under tires.

The Explosive Ordnance Disposal team

isn’t sure; when they’re not sure,

they blow it up.

2

Why don’t you walk over there, Spoon says,

and get yourself a Purple Heart.

3

With a broom, a woman beats a rug

draped over a clothesline. LT waves her away. Bomb,

bomb, he says, but she shakes her head,

turns her hips to swing again.

4

Spoon is awarded

the Purple Heart in June

when the shrapnel misses his head,

but the bricks that hide the bomb

knock him unconscious.

5

When the shell detonates beside our truck,

the sound is too loud to hear; the wind wraps us

with shrapnel, bricks, smoke; the ballistic windshield

shatters; glass on Kenson’s cheek—

blood like smeared lipstick.

6

For three hours we clear the neighborhood

because of a black plastic bag.

In the bag he finds six ripe tomatoes.

7

Sergeant Sumey says he almost vomits

turning in the turret

to see our truck vanish

inside smoke. Thought you were all dead.

8

We avoid trash, disturbed soil, animal carcasses.

We arrest men

who dig beside the road.

We hate the ground.

9

Outside the city: rocks stacked

like children’s building blocks.

Sergeant Kenson won’t wait for EOD. It’s nothing,

he yells, and no one can stop him

when he starts to walk;

even LT tries to restrain him, but he walks,

and all four of us in the truck shout,

but it’s no use. When he lifts his leg

to kick the pile,

we look down. We close our eyes.