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Snapping wire whirling and curling in the airflow,

shot loose by enemy bullets. More punching holes

in varnished wooden wing struts, splintering

and shredding the very wood.

Thud, thud, thud as steel rain peppers

tight fabric fuselage, tearing

great holes and destroying the structure.

Big dragonfly wing, wing ribs visible

in the morning sun, clear doped fabric

like a skin’s membrane.

7.92 mm Parabellum bullets showering

the structure and snapping

a third of this beautiful structure back

like a broken finger, crippled.

Gunfire shifting, hitting the front fuselage,

blowing the pilot’s face off, nose hanging

by a sliver of bloody skin, front teeth broken

and bloody. Killed as a single bullet bored

into his skull, leaving brains dripping

and running over his leather flying jacket. Horrible?

Ten bullets piercing main fuel tank in front of his cockpit,

in a neat line of drilled holes. Petrol escaping

onto red hot engine. Whoomph! Angry red flames erupt

and hungrily burn the dying beautiful biplane, killing

it, consuming it.

Rolling drunkenly inverted, it falls

then spins to earth. A fallen dragonfly burning,

trailing black smoke against a summer blue sky.

Funeral doom fallen warrior.

ww1air warbulletsfirecombatbiplanedeath


POEM i read at blouse gig, not a tit insight lol ►


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