Incerlik

Incerlik, sick slick slip upon the floor,

Incerlik tic tock blood stop – stock

the intravenous soldier, with a drip

away from war!

tip a state-side welcome

for the purple hearted veteran,

now leg loose from a canon,

not needing pairs of shoes no more.

Spin the bottle at full throttle nurse

for this my R and R, sharing my

Hercy bird with a comatose, both

of us far from stars in a sky

murky from Kuwait oil,-

and I'm looking down,

looking down upon Iraq

below below below the belt there's

something missing, and as the MP

strikes a charge to tone it down,

I'm retching at Silopi, – 2000 years

of goat-shit fresh upon my nose,

R and R in Incerlik,

getting pissed amidst the hissing

from the turbo props and kissing

the ground,

I'm wandering amongst

the lonely limbs and

wondering,

will I ever see again

my home.

Michael J Waite.