Better Than Survive(Experimental poetry)

One piece it comes of, as it went on
the tension leaves with the sweat and grime
the smell of siege still upon me
.
//she finds the pieces of RPG and concrete
and brushes them off my neck and shirt//
.
The shin guards, after the boots, then
the cargo’s get emptied, the piece of cross
I found in the alley behind…
.
//she pulls my web gear off and smiles
at the red plastic food bag tie with the
little blue silk flower she tied on that morning//
.
Finally the fatigue pants, torn from fence abuse
and the need to not get mauled by some
feral dog, hungry and pissed like me.
.
//She likes to undo my work blouse buttons, slow
and welcoming and with more love than I can hope
to ever be aware, because my head would…//
.
// The best, whitest like moon glow neck and
her soothing whispers meet me because she knows
and as I shake wet release into that neck my
pained rictus hiding and shaking and finally smiling
because she says it best: You’re home now.//
.
In the shower making soap washing away my sins
and other not nice smells I sing an old Petty
tune that makes more sense…
than my entire day.

Chris Whitenack © 2014