A Gunfight Poem by Philip Lore

Gunpowder and cordite hang in the air,
Searing lungs, I whisper a prayer.
Tensions thick, bullets flying,
A time for killing...A time for dying.

Pools of blood flood the ground,
Wounded and dying all around.
Staccato firing deafens my ears,
A state of ultimate exile,
Ultimate fears.

When the gunfights over, I look around,
No one speaks, heads just hanging down.
Every day and every night,
That's what its like in an Iraqi gunfight.