← v2n2, Fall 2003
Poetry · Volume 2, Number 2

May 30

I had to sit on the steel railroad tracks

to eat my sandwich and you understand I wrapped it

in wax paper since that is as far as I went

in preservation and I remember my serial number

and I was an H in case somebody murdered me

for that was the day we fanned out in all directions

with poppies in one hand and quarters in the other,

the photograph that of a corporal with his balls blown off.