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Vietnam
April 14, 2014
He stood,
knee deep in mud,
with dog tags scraping his chest
and the sound of machine gun fire
ringing in his young ears.
He clenched his jaw
and locked his knees
and held tight
the gun he was issued.
This was his duty,
as an American boy.
So, he forced courage
and didn't let his feet
sink in too far.
Until he was taken out,
by a bullet to the chest.
But no one cried on the field,
because Vietnam has stolen their tears
and turned them all to rain.
So, they took his tags and left him
to become part of the land
that stole him.
© Joe B., Phoenix, AZ
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