I touch the name Master Sgt.
Jonathan J. Dunbar in the paper.
He died in a suicide attack.
I see the T.N.T. strapped
to the terrorist’s vest.
I see the flash of light
and experience the brief moment
of silence, the ears deafened
by the attack, the eternal rest.
Melt the ink into my hands
like the metal of a tank being welded.
Use this newspaper as a rag
in a bottle of gasoline and light it.