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Modern Warfare

a poem

By Mark BurrPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
Modern Warfare
Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash

Modern Warfare

guns, bullets

powder, shrapnel

they sting and bite

like cowardly insects

drawing succor.

But not

swords or knives

or spears or flails.

Not like when Odysseus sailed the Agean.

Not like when Achilles dragged Hector’s body in the field.

When we warred against the Trojans,

the Argives had to bring sword against bone.

Against skin, hair, and sinew.

If you wanted to kill the enemy

you had to look into his eyes.

No

not like how it is today.

War now has a room and suits,

economics and justifications,

missles, mortar, and mathematics.

Press, Push, Break.

There was no trigger to pull,

no hardest button to button.

Just your arms and what they could carry.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Mark Burr

Mark Burr is a poet from Ocean Springs MS. He was last published in Prairie Schooner. He is currently working on a chapbook. He also writes short stories and takes cool pictures with his camera.

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    Mark BurrWritten by Mark Burr

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