Little Spoon
Download the PDF
Tired warriors each unpacked,
In a shallow hand-dug hole,
Not fit for a grave
Afghan soil cold and hard,
An unfit mattress, a slotted drawer
Evening wind blows sharp,
Limbs above slices chilled flesh
Cold cut, perhaps protected,
A thin poncho sheet to ward
Woven Kevlar, stitched ceramic,
An unfit pillow for the night
Slab of arm nestled between,
Shivering between hocks of thigh
Will you be my little spoon,
Don’t be weird, bro.
—Adam Fenner, U.S. Marine Corps, Retired
Back to Top