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by Nathan Lim

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Awake again.

The Ambien is still
working my synapses.

First, the sun
hits the skin
–neck and hands.

Even the soles of
my feet
feels the blood-warm.

Bangor, Maine was a daze;
so was Germany.

There are no bombs today
to shake
the foundation of
these white sands.

They say that
this is the Kuwaiti Airport.

The dirty bottled water
comes from the Mesopotamia.

I think they’re lying.

This is the Middle East?
This is the Middle East.

A fly buzzes
around my left eye
and lands on my right ear
and pretends to be dead.

I have seen these
white sands before.

I have seen the
satellite pictures
of Mars.

If there are no bombs today
to shake the foundation
of these white sands,

then what are those
flashes of light
in the horizon?

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Nathan Lim currently lives in Queens, NY, where he teaches English to immigrant children. He was a medic in the Army (68 Whiskey) and deployed to Iraq in 2008-09. He writes poetry to cope with his experience in the war.

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