Non-Erotic PoetryInfantryI hunt for the wounded;
Search the plastic shrapnel
Littering the battle field.
He is curled in a fox hole
Of pillows and blankets.
I hunker in the fuzzy bunker,
Scoop up my casualty,
And head for the encampment.
I stumble through debris kicking away
The toy soldiers and colouring books
I find an empty bed to lay my soldier to rest.
Tomorrow’s battle still ahead.
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