Thursday, March 12, 2009

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner


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. Randall Jarrell.

Go read this.
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4 comments:

  1. AnonymousMarch 12, 2009 at 8:52 AM

    Oh.. so sad

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  2. 7-letter Deborah, never a DebMarch 13, 2009 at 8:54 AM

    This is one of my all-time favorit poems.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Rochelle R.March 13, 2009 at 11:44 PM

    That was a very touching story. My 87 year old Dad was a career Naval Officer but only began to talk about WW Two a few years ago. I know I should record some of his stories.

    ReplyDelete
  4. rMarch 14, 2009 at 3:50 PM

    Thank you for that link. As I found your blog though somebody's insight and perspicacity, you have led me to Sippican Cottage. Wonderful site.

    ReplyDelete