HAUNTING FLIGHT
(Irish U.N. post coming under attack,
South Lebanon, c. 1990s)
Vibrating rings expand to edge of cup,
if I close my eyes it will be gone.
The one o fives and one five fives are curving through the night,
my ears pick out the distant crump, crump, crump.
A tank-round bursts the silence,
transforming blast-walls in a multitude of sparkles,
lit up by a million flechettes puncturing concrete slabs.
The dancing shrapnel illuminates our billets to the violent night,
the echoes search, as red flares pop into haunting flight.
Then our radios whine up, their fans belch out a constant drone
of shoot reps and a firing close in response to RPGs,
panicked non-human voices fill the sweating room,
the carnival is back again but much too soon.
My chest rotates in anxious sickening trip,
it’s nights like this I feel that I could quit
the arc of noise and traffic through my sleep.
Michael J. Whelan
RPG = Rocket Propelled Grenade
Flechette = Isreali anti-personnel shell filled with long shards of metal
One o fives and one five fives = Artillery shells
Published by Mark Ulyseas in L.E. Poetry Magazine, January 2018 issue under the sequence title TRUTH