Sweet smell of beef and sweat,
strapped in your camo-elegance with
sand paper shoe soles.
Sorry. You won’t be going home as
soon as they told you. But I
Saw you on the news last night, with
sad faces of Shi’ite corpses
strewn in your path. There were
soldiers laughing at the rotten
smell of foreign flesh
still lingering in the air.
Sirens screamed till you were dead
silent. You can’t feel
sorry for those you have
slain because you have
surrendered reason for the
swift judgment of the sword.
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