Terry M. Dugan
I could tell from his voice
something was horribly wrong.
I’m okay he said over and over
in a tone that told me he was anything but.
Insurgents had blown up the school,
driving into the group of small children
he gave lunch and candy to the day before.
I’m the reason the kids are dead.
Weeks later he called again.
Me and my buddies are getting tattooed.
Every rec period he chooses a new tat.
I’m coming home when I run out of skin.