THE SOUND OF DRIPPING, DRIPPING, DRIPPING
———–
THE SPEEDING ROUND
The speeding round
cheap hand cast metal
was hardly solid bound
in one piece together did fragments meld and loosely settle
and death with its single purpose flew
at then what the twilight shooter knew
and watched where it sought out a single
among those in innocence at dinner meal did sit and mingle
while death stalked among them found its prize
a score, a gain, a hit, found by and waited there within the shooter’s eyes
while in slowly downward dimming light
in a short and deadly quick jungle flight
over green heaped deep and in tangled layers
which lay upon the steep climb thick
and hid not from mortal danger
but rather exposed each youthful stranger
to the land held by they to defend at cost
and lives sure this night would be lost
in positions held while concealed the shooter had edged closer who
at patience lay and found the trick
and aimed for an open slice of un-tanned skin
between the guards which useless hung,
unzipped they without fault of their own let the splintered missile in
through skin not able to defend itself, past shattered ribs it broke into a lung
the body struck, the youth, the man then backwards fell
amid a spray of blood and sweat
then regained he lost footing but yet
staggered then stunned the victim stood
proud, angry beneath a waning sun while precious blood
stained his shirt and wet his hand
all lost for the sake of a piece of worthless land
clothed he in Marine Corps Green
but in safety naked before the surrounding wood
this youth so strong and lean
stood he to make his final stand
with anger as his guide and useless amour
he shouted out a challenge while
those about with eyes gone wide and wild in fear drug him down as the style
was to spot the danger by the flash and not attempt an open charge
for the contact area was hard to cross and quite large
the viper simply had to quiet lay
a snake it was there to stay
sleeping
if snakes do sleep at all
until darkness came, he was forced to idle stay
then slowly crept himself away
and yet as darkness came upon them all
while some men prayed
they all were stayed
and the marine again picked himself up from where he fell
————–he picked himself up
—————————–from where he fell
and stood there blood running, foaming from the wound like a broken cup
unable to stop itself from coming, from frothy bubbly filling the lung
————-he picked himself up
——————–from where he fell
and shouted out across the green
and challenged the shooter to stand and fight
him one to one with all his might
as his brother’s hands reached up into the scene
and tried to drag him to the ground
for only there might life stay safe and sound
—————but he picked himself up
he picked himself up
from where he fell
and then the knowing tell
the knowing mournful tell
of dripping, dripping, dripping
the sound of dripping, dripping, dripping.
Copy Write Gordon Kuhn June 28, 2010
