Tuesday, September 25, 2007

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

2 comments:

grey_zealot said...

Wow.

Were you watching THE WAR last night by any chance? One of the WWII vets they were interviewing was a ball turret gunner.

Jason said...

As a matter of fact, I was - it's what inspired me to look up that poem!