The Foe Poem by Leslie Alexis

As a boy this he is what he wanted to be:
A fireman whose hose can make a sea,
A soldier whose suit commands order,
A policeman; to his car there’s none louder.

They bought the games, they played along,
By seventeen, “CLACK! CLACK! ” was his song,
At eighteen he and friends signed the seal,
They were given guns- the fight ‘came real.

The first few days were not so bad,
He made many friends, many a comrade;
Then it came, for on the way from Iraq
He found some friends were not coming back.

Well, few did, but they were not whole,
The others, bombs took all bones and soul.
He looks at one living and tries to smile
But with a frown their faces easily tiled.

With quivering lip he remembers the gun;
Unlike the games the dead don't return.
Changed and labile forever, now he knows
That death and death alone is his foe.

Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis