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
