Have you become
a lance corporal,
wing commander,
lieutenant, private,
sergeant, major general?
Or are you a writer
transporting yourself
into trenches to wield
a saber against a vague
menace, bespectacled,
sitting at a computer,
trying to finish
his latest report
on the war
without witnesses
that went wrong
somehow because
the witnesses
and warriors
snapped photos
on cell phones
and sent them
to scribes
composing
on computers
eternal odes
to mere privates
in trenches,
launching projectiles
from bazookas,
following orders,
not responsible
for blood baths
beyond gun sites,
in no man’s land,
no fire zones?