War kills and its stench stays and stings forever.
Can I gouge out my inner eye? Block the corpses I can’t stop seeing?
Am I strong enough to force them gone—like Chris Kyle, SEAL sniper?
“None of the guilty are killed” … writes White in ‘Raid’ … “We eat, drink,
vote and read and cannot trace the graves or name of a single murdered child.”
Corpses, corpses—charred and dark—reaching ever to me.
 “In the Crosshairs.” Nicholas Schmidle. New Yorker Magazine. June 3, 2013.
 “Raid,” by Landeg White, 1983.