by David Feela
I heard it again today, another explosion
half a world away. Two or three soldiers died,
or were they civilians? I don’t know.
Nobody knows on this side of the ocean.
I’ll wait for the news to sort it out,
put the bodies into bags,
send the reports home
with the names and cumulative numbers.
At the gas pumps I see their blood
translated into gallons, their duty
ethereal as the fumes escaping my tank.
The line forms on the right,
so many Americans waiting
to pay, whatever it costs.
David Feela is a poet, free-lance writer, writing instructor, book collector, and thrift store pirate. His work has appeared in regional and national publications, including High Country News’s Writers on the Range, Mountain Gazette, and in the newspaper as a "Colorado Voice" for The Denver Post. He is a contributing editor and columnist for Inside/Outside Southwest and for The Four Corners Free Press. A poetry chapbook, Thought Experiments (Maverick Press), won the Southwest Poet Series. His web page can be viewed at www.geocities.com/feelasophy.
