Goodnight Poem by Kyle Schlicher

it is dark.

very little starlight.

just a sliver of moon.

i smell the sandbags,
rifle oil
and
bug juice.

my watch is over.

i very gently awaken
the other marine
in the bunker.

he jumps wide awake
then quickly remembers
where he is.

0200, you're up
i tell him.

thanks,
he says
as he assumes his position
to peer out
into the same darkness
i had been looking into for 2 hours.

I curl up against the sandbags.

goodnight.


(11-04-1968)