My Marine My Grandson

A rupture in the how-it-was-to-be:
not for any child through me,
we haven’t had a soldier
since the Civil War.

This is not supposed to be about
me. He says he joined to fight
terrorists. Almost eleven

on September 11th. Terror.
He’s been taught. This is
what he knows.

And at three and four he crafted
outlawed guns from slices
of bread, beanie babies,
remote controls.

Now he instructs his little brother:
never point a gun at a person,
lay low, move fast, fire.

As he was drilled: BRASS-F:
Breathe Relax Aim Stop
Squeeze Follow-through