White Fingers in the Night

They’re in the wire,

night has turned to day.

Hootches on fire,

incoming NVA.

All are dying,

or blown to shit.

I'm still firing,

in my bunkers pit.

I can hear them,

they now see me.

I can see them,

they now hear me.

Closer they come,

closer still.

closer, closer, closer.

They are here,

I am out of ammo

rifles pointed,

fingers squeezing.

squeezing, fingers turning white,

squeezing, I am to die this night.

closer they come,

closer, closer, closer.

All are dead,

no hope for me.

all are dead,

bayonets pointed at me.

Closer they get,

closer, and closer

I can smell them.

I can see their eye,

through their rifle sights.

In moments I die,

white fingers in the night.

I awake.

© Fred Alvis 4/10/2007