Poetry

How We Lost the War

The hamlet sat at the north end of a long valley, squad 
taking a break, LT talking to the village headman. 
A young radio operator stood near the lieutenant, 
watching the ridgeline, half-click away, a dozen shades 
of green broken near the top by tan and black of shadowed 
rock faces, individual trees crowning the canopy like camel 
humps, edges silhouetted against a sky the blue of old jeans. 
A papa-san squatted near him, face wrinkled and impassive, 
black marble eyes reflecting everything. The soldier wondered 

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