First: HE rounds 

their kicked-up smoke dust 
same color as whatever earth they strike.  

Nothing seen we know them 
by bellows thumping bare hills  

beyond the bombed-out tank hulks 
we were supposed to hit.  

A thunder you can set your watch to.   

             Next: illume rounds 

packed light and smoke 
and shot too low  

start fires in the tall grass.  
Imagine these man-made stars washing  

night like photograph half developed.
In daylight, just ash dragging fields 


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