to fetish, to war

i’ve taken to watching war
in digitized fragments,
each explosion its own commodity,
and as a consumer i am safe to ejaculate

of course, something is lost
without the heuristics of murder
i can only imagine and watch
(the residual vapor licks a hot casing,
                                                a severed hand)

in spite something is steeled
in each eye inhaling
each frame, the awe inspired
by flame, the way napalm

undresses skin from bodies,
like a sanguine gingham cycling
upward, adrift, as the sky is wont
                                    to drink blood

who wouldn’t be shocked?
as a teenager, watching
deathclouds of smoke expand
in nightshade green, thermal power

razing those stale structures
to fragile shale motes, to defeat,
to memory, or shibboleth;
or to a consequence of chance

chance that i was born here
in different sunlight, my voyeurism
complicit
                        rather than my skin

Ethan Milner is a writer in Oregon and a therapist at an adolescent day treatment school. His work has appeared in the journals ditch,decomP, Short, Fast, & Deadly, The Residential College Review, and Xylem.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to to fetish, to war

  1. Ryan Davis says:

    powerful. took me to a war scene.

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