America
(the soldier said)
I saw something burning on my chest
and I tried to brush it off
with my right hand
but my arm wasn’t there.

Eleven Killed Over the Weekend
You’re from a little town
somewhere near nowhere
Which is somewhere
where there is nothing but
hope and a slight ring
in the distance
A college education say
an adventure, a calling
You sign up
It’s a good shot
Clean clothes
Don’t have to cook
and they point the way
just like in the movies
or on TV
Only on this day
the road is light tan
and endless stones
A string of you
hump along listening
to the crank of trucks, tanks
the cluck and click
of gear and boots
This day explodes
Slices off what is you
Half a head, three and third
feet of large intestine, a splatter
soaked in sludge, oil and blood
This day so far from home

From the Fall 2007 issue of Inquiring Mind (Vol. 24, No. 1)
© 2007 David Plumb
David Plumb’s books include A Slight Change in the Weather, The Music Stopped and Your Monkey’s on Fire, Drugs and All That and Man in a Suitcase: Poems. His work has also appeared in the Washington Post, Miami Herald, Orlando Sentinel, Homeless Not Helpless, Alimentum: The Literature of Food, and the St. Martin’s anthology Mondo James Dean. He studied at the San Francisco Zen Center. A former paramedic, cab driver, cook and tour guide, he teaches at Florida Atlantic University.
David Plumb’s books include A Slight Change in the Weather, The Music Stopped and Your Monkey’s on Fire, Drugs and All That and Man in a Suitcase: Poems. His work has also appeared in the Washington Post, Miami Herald, Orlando Sentinel, Homeless Not Helpless, Alimentum: The Literature of Food, and the St. Martin’s anthology Mondo James Dean. He studied at the San Francisco Zen Center. A former paramedic, cab driver, cook and tour guide, he teaches at Florida Atlantic University.