You think you hear them,
cursing through the air, searching,
bracketing where you are,
feel the impacts creeping closer in your brain
and your spine plays that game again
exaggerating your predicament.
Your mind’s a constant train
as you lay in your bunk
deciding at which point you should run.
Michael J. Whelan
(Incoming artillery, mortar & tank shells – Lebanon)
Published by Mark Ulyseas in a sequence of poems titled ‘A Hundred Black Horizons’ in L.E. Poetry Magazine, February 2017