Shell Casings

by Benjamin White

Covered by covering fire
Angels desire the sunrise
And pray for the night to end
As tracer rounds arc over
The haunted sounds
Of screaming foxholes

For the souls of boys
Still stuck in the mud
With their thick blood
With shell casings.

As he spoke,
The Master Sergeant
Unconsciously touched
The side of his head

Where his ear
Used to be.