I came across this poem a while ago.
It has stayed with me - to use a word that's in the poem itself, it reverberates...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eulogy, by Brian Turner It happens on a Monday, at 11:20 A.M.,
as tower guards eat sandwiches
and seagulls drift by on the Tigris River.
Prisoners tilt their heads to the west
though burlap sacks and duct tape blind them.
The sound reverberates down concertina coils
the way piano wire thrums when given slack.
And it happens like this, on a blue day of sun,
when Private Miller pulls the trigger
to take brass and fire into his mouth:
the sound lifts the birds up off the water,
a mongoose pauses under the orange trees,
and nothing can stop it now, no matter what
blur of motion surrounds him, no matter what voices
crackle over the radio in static confusion,
because if only for this moment the earth is stilled,
and Private Miller has found what low hush there is
down in the eucalyptus shade, there by the river.
PFC B. Miller
(1980-March 22, 2004)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brian Turner has left the US Army, and is now a teacher in Fresno.
Here he is
reading Eulogy at Bowdoin College. Explore elsewhere on that From the Fishouse site for more by him.
Here's an interview on NPR, and he reads a couple other of his poems
He has a blog in the
New York Times "Homefires" series - interesting from a Kiva & "development" point of view is his recent trip to Uganda
I found a good intelligent
SF Chronicle article about him.
This is the
Amazon (USA) page for "Here, Bullet", in which Eulogy appears.