This poem is taken from PN Review 163, Volume 31 Number 5, May - June 2005.
Five PoemsSurvivor
A little more damage
makes the damage slighter -
until one day you stand
among the slaughter,
hark back to that first day
when stopping sooner
would fail to make
your soldiers any saner.
I'm thinking of you senile
in the moonlight,
and hunted, like the redskin
in your gunsight.
But all you claim to feel's
the sweat of nightmare.
...
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