[Flycatcher]

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 its 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

(A great poem worth proper formatting)

[Retain Mike]

I am technically challenged when I post. Thanks.