Private Greene

a poem (warning--suicide)

Private Greene shot his own skull
in his room
borrowed Baker’s thirty eight
nothing left to celebrate
wife untrue and filled with hate
cock and boom

“we all knew it would happen”
everyone said
the general disregard
the first sergeant rode him hard
his father had left him scarred
now he’s dead

twenty-first birthday last week
living blank
tried a church with silver bells
yoga with its magic spells
to push his personal hells
in a tank

he ate breakfast at seven
sat alone
texted his wife a curt note
fantasized he’d cut Top’s throat
timing had the final vote
closed his phone

Private Greene was here then gone
like the world
gossip filled the empty space
rumors grew around the case
speculation took his place
whispers swirled

and that was it for him