A Soldier Returns to Afghanistan
That Sunday, I felt sad leaving again:
Up until about
Five-thirty in my tortured brain
Did my almost-full- plane pull out
All engines roar, all seatbelts on, all chance
Of seeing her again soon gone. We flew
Over the tops of mountains, crossed a peak
Of raging snowstorms, felt the aircraft dance.
The cloud's even drifting breathe soon blew
Where sky and love's desire and war reek
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