A letter:
bombs blast
like broken moons overhead
and the stench of the dead
and a mouthful of mud
face down.

A letter:
sitting on the front porch
when they arrive,
that fucking flag
like a body bag.

For my third NaPoWriMo prompt I chose to address an irrational, yet terrible and persistent, fear of my boyfriend being conscripted to fight in some war. Its a recurring nightmare that often stays with me throughout the days. Though I’m happy with what I have come up with I feel it has a little more potential in it still. Its definitely something I’ll continue to work with. With that said, please feel free to criticize at will!