Assault
It comes in disguise.
Before dawn,
on a mattress of old coils.
It comes in hand-
some, in polite, in
five-foot-ten cordial.
It comes in the dorms,
next to soldiers,
sailors, airmen: sleeping.
It comes in a blackout,
in 90-proof rum.
It comes without proof.
It comes despite
my training in tactical
surprise, my dexterity
in handling a bullet clip,
my eye’s 20/20
through a rifle’s site.
It comes so easily,
no camouflage,
I don’t even see it.
