← v8n2, Fall 2009
Poetry · Volume 8, Number 2

Mined Muzzle Velocity

Dear,

     Friendly fire divulges just who shoots.

     Prettiness no good for injury prevention.

     Position & identification vital signs.

     Shall we tell. All of our garments could

     almost be called armor. Mail, the inter-

     locking, mail, protect the zones im-

possible to plate.

     People here hold jobs inconsistent

     with their training—there is not enough

work to follow the tricky hunt trail.

     They tell me the language how difficult

     the language is. They do not see

     the humor in that. I should know. But

as pride burrows, cases collect.

     The cold glasses my skin. I challenge

     penetration of furtive hide.

    The news announced a Cold Holiday for

the north. My landlady rang my doorbell,

    asked to borrow sugar—translatable

    trope, cook the holiday away.

    Instinctual body paint mixed from spices

    & water. We painted one another all dawn

    & huddled the radiator. No hot water, so

slept the morning in vibrants.