G.I. Cocktail by Chris Butler

He swallows his pain
with a prescription bottle filling handfuls of pills
into a shaking hand,

welcoming hell with a hello
and an unconscious wave from the darkness,

but he awakes to an asphyxiating elixir
pumped through the uneasy queasiness of his

choking esophagus to bypass his gastro-intestinal
tract in the form of a chalky concoction,

forced-fed to him through a tube from a
disheveled orderly dressed in bloodied scrubs,

as he lies as a wounded soldier in a losing war.

2 Responses to “G.I. Cocktail by Chris Butler”

  1. Chris Butler is a twentysomething nobody shouting from the Quiet Corner of Connecticut.

  2. Chris Butler may be many things,but he damn sure not “[a] twenty-something nobody shouting from the Quiet Corner of Connecticut.”
    I’m an 80 year-old Korean War vet and this poem breaks my fuckin’ heart.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: