War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

Tuesday, May 13, 2008 — Mosquito

o M,

Tnx for the snaps. I like best, the ten mosquito men, swarmed, laptops lidded open, sucking hotspots in KAF. Now I know where finger strokes are made. Outside a shipping container, inside the wire. In shade. Emails.

2nd best, I like the pic from the F.O.B. Your home. Outside the wire. Desert cocoon. Sand bags, machine guns and care packages. The beef jerky, the cup-of-noodles, the red licorice I sent. Unpacked, spread over your cot. Extra, for you to give to your men, or did you trade them? Tnx for that. Oh ya, the string of Christmas lights. Nice touch.

You said it’s getting hot. 41 C in the shade. But maybe that’s not all. I read everything. Newspapers. Blogs. Army.ca. Talks with the Taliban. They say. Is this true? Is that you in mud villages without helmet, your gun slung towards the ground? Do you drink their tea? Or just pretend?

M., in spring I used to worry when you said you were riding motorcycle again. But I know chrome and highway is your danger food. As are desert and crunch of gravel and sweat. As you are mine. And I learned to love four stroke thrum. Still. Now spring has come, motorcycles are out around here. And this year. You in the desert, eight thousand kilometres from your bike. On blue sun days. They carry extra sharp bite. Each time they buzz by.



Welcome to MayDay

MayDay is a series of letters in prose, poem, txt, email, of a young woman to her infantryman lover serving in Afghanistan.

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