Catch-22 (The Poem)

Issue 58

It was months after the promise that we would be able to go home,

She sent me pictures in the mail,

But it was her voice that helped me sleep

In the middle of Milwaukee when it was hard because of all the

crickets.

Now it’s gunshots keeping me awake.

I’m leveling out my blood with nicotine in the hopes

That my lungs fail and I’m no longer useful.

Either way, when I get home eventually,

It won’t be the same.

A home where my dreams are filled with the faces I’ve never spoken

to,

But improved as God and ended their life because the government told

me to.

The government who uses me as a prop,

Makes me believe I’m defending my country,

When I’m helping people I do not love

Just to help them receive more money.

I have taken more lives than a death row inmate,

Collected more bones than orthopedic cancer.

Think of all the places I could’ve been instead,

Like a college classroom,

Or in bed,

With you.