the entire platoon, lost
even Leroy--all said he had the “shield”
in this field, he must have let it down
all six foot four of him, on the ground
beside him, Tony from Brooklyn
Fresno Frankie, all

the lieutenant, in motionless repose
his head resting on Leroy's ribs, his short blond hair crimson
from the base of his skull to his ears, color courtesy
of Leroy’s grated gut

not one sound
why had they not bayoneted him
with the others....he saw one standing over him, leaning
down with his AK-47, moving as slowly as the minute hand
on a giant black clock

where was the sun
after all these hours among the dead
hadn't the earth turned, or did it spin into a sky
where Helios had vanished, superfluous now
on this lifeless plain

still, in this darkness he saw
one by one, his sleeping brothers awake
yet drenched in blood, arms outstretched,
mute while they drifted upwards
in ribbons of soft, silent light