Magazine article WLA ; War, Literature and the Arts

Phalanx

Magazine article WLA ; War, Literature and the Arts

Phalanx

Article excerpt

They say he ran.

He had a first name once. It is now buried with his honor. He is only a rank and a last name. Staff Sergeant Harris.

They say he ran when he saw the blast.

An action, an impulse. Seduced by lady fear, wearing her gown of tangibility, speaking materialisms into his ear, as she traced a finger down the slope of his neck and drew a line of succulent life down to his navel. He looked upon her, laying on the foreign earth, and draped himself over her. She whispered into his skin as he covered his Death Before Dishonor tattoo in Arab mud.

He stretched the night over his face and wept as a child that realizes that acts have consequences and punishments are real. Death is not a dream here. There are no monologues, only a violent instant where our limbs are torn from trunks and we fade as our bodies struggle to breathe. Our bodies struggle to blink. For those of us that remain unlucky, we must react. We must close the phalanx. …

Search by... Author
Show... All Results Primary Sources Peer-reviewed

Oops!

An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.