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"Fragging" by Yusef Komunyakaa

Five men pull straws
under a tree on a hillside.
Damp smoke & mist halo them
as they single out each other,
pretending they're not there.
"We won't be wasting a real man
That lieutenant's too gung ho.
Think, man, 'bout how Turk
got blown away; next time
it's you or me. Hell,
the truth is the truth."
Something small as a clinch pin
can hold men together,
humming their one-word
song. Yes, just a flick
of a wrist & the whole night
comes apart. "Didn't we warn him?
That bastard." "Remember, Joe,
remember how he pushed Perez?"
The five men breathe like a wave
of cicadas, their bowed heads
filled with splintered starlight.
They uncoil fast as a fist.
Looking at the ground, four
walk north, then disappear. One
comes this way, moving through
a bad dream. Slipping a finger
into the metal ring, he's married
to his devil-the spoon-shaped
handle flies off. Everything
breaks for green cover,
like a hundred red birds
released from a wooden box.

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