ANBAR PROVINCE

A cloud of red
in a spray of life
leaving as fast
as the bullet from your back
And oh how fleeting
how speedy how quick
how messed up it was
buying into the lie
that sent you to fight
as warriors to enrich
the already too rich
While at home a flag
waits to be lain
over gun-metal coffins
for prayers to be said
tears to be shed
taps to be played
And then
the silence . . .

Joe Labriola
September 3, 2006