I never guarded bodies or unloaded
Bags of black plastic
From a chopper. But I did my best
In your room with the ceiling fan
Hovered over your bed, the doctor
Ordering you to push, breathe.

I swear we were in a war.
There was blood, and in your belly
The shrapnel of stillborn
Pulled out piece by piece: a foot,
A leg, the tethered body finally
Cut from you. He put it on plastic,

On a table you couldn't see
With me standing there. No hero,
I wasn't the fighter who carries
His friend across front lines,
Who points a weapon at the medic
And says: Make him breathe.