The Soldiers - Poem by Hunter James
I used to be on the inside, you know. Sneering at the hopeless soldiers trying to weave their way in to our small world. We would sit in a bubble sharing a can of coke and I would say ' lets go swimming' and you would say 'okay'. The troops would surround, taunting us and grumbling over their bayonets. Occasionally I'd get a poke in the ass or a shot to the leg and I would calmly say' she's mine' and they would say ' but why? ' Though they knew and I knew they knew.
The sirens wailed as we swam under the thick white wash stopping only to rearrange our swimwear. Though we never heard them, our heart beats were too arrogant and the shore was so far away.
You would dry your hair and I would burry my feet in the sand and say something like ' you wanna go home? ' and you would say ' okay' and we would walk hand in hand with burnt feet as the soldiers waddled on behind us. We would sit on my bed and laugh at the poor soldiers outside, goofy with pointy noses and large helmets. They would paw at my window trying to get to you and I would say ' she's mine' and pass you another can of coke. The bubble was perfectly sealed and the air never got stuffy.
At night we were vulnerable, as the bubble had to be put to rest. You would sleep and I would sleep with one eye open hoping no soldiers were watching. One day I woke up, and couldn’t find our bubble, I searched and searched though I only came across a window, cracked and reflecting my sunken face. I soon became aware of the oafish soldiers that stood by me side by side. They were transfixed at the window, their eyes glazed over and their mouths slightly parched open. I focused my attention to the bullet proof window and saw you sitting on my bed. I banged and wrapped and pegged stones. Though you only mouthed something like 'Goodbye' and the question arose ' but why? ', though I knew, and you knew I knew and the soldiers were no longer so funny as I tightened my boots and loaded my rifle.
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