“Munitions” by Jacob Erin-Cilberto


find me a name in a journal
of war, a classroom awaits
with its hand grenade logic
weapons of mass instruction

the teacher plots
battlefield students lie in foxhole desks
sleeping soundly between barrages
of word bombs

then lie awake at night listening for curious sounds
while curiosity is blown out of their minds

it's time the charge veered away from drones
flying overhead spitting bullet boring brogue

at cringing soldiers
let the troops attack the material
sneaking through un-sentry-ed lines
trying to find their own way home

in one piece
with just a bit more shrapnel
resting precariously near their bone.