The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner

Randall Jarrell

 Next Poem          

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

Next Poem 

 Back to Randall Jarrell

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.