TO KILL

TO KILL
He told me to touch the offal
Slimy, putrid, and throw it in
The bushes. My lesson was
To keep my food down and not be
Squeamish about death. With buck
Knife we skinned the deer, its
Head our ghastly trophy. My
Early education was smeared
With blood and privilege.

He told me I would be like him
And military elite I grew up
With rubbing elbows. His dour
Face so close I could smell
His nicotine breath. To look
Through his lens I had pedigree
For the trenches to proudly
Serve my country. The rank and
File was not for debate but my
Unresolved duty. He was preparing,
Conditioning, to live off the land,
Or kill just to kill.

Arnal Kennedy