A Bullet Named Ken Poem by Albert Ahearn

A Snapshot of war.

He lies next to me in the mud
Dead; a shot blew half of his skull
Away leaving the taste of brains
In my mouth.” I shot that goddamn,
Dirty, rotten rag head, Ken! I
Cut him in half before he
Hit the ground! ” Ken had a grotesque
look on his dirty, blood-soaked face.
Something I couldn’t quite make out.
I stared into his vacant eyes
And found myself unconsciously
Saying with no embarrassment,
“I’m glad it had “your” name on it.”