The Face of War

My reading of the poem

The Face of War

Pillow impressions, tank tracks across the face
Deep furrows in the dunes, an army’s footprint.
Plows its way through the desert of my dreams

A flickering television, my sleeping mind dreams
Of carrion-picking buzzards, death’s dark face,
Gnawing on a child’s carcass without a footprint

Apparitions of amputees searching for a footprint
Wandering through a landfill of loss, a dream
Of deliverance imprinted upon bloody faces

The face of war, foot printed in the desert of my dreams.