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Feeling MORBID


The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner 
by Randall Jarrell

 
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.