Poem by Frank Blake

FOB

FOB is just a fancy name

for a burned out building or an old abandoned shcoolhouse

To some it seems forward like those in the rear or back home

But to our newly minted veteran in the making perspective

it doesn’t feel that way at all

It seems perfectly right here, neutral

like sweet, sound, safety, wrapped in america’s blanket

A ruck-sack flob at the end of a search

A hot meal of sorts

Mail for some

The only break from a war with no front.

when we leave our resting place

woken by mortars and spurred by young attack lust

We put our team in gear

and shift into pure forward

Photography © Glenn Bowie

Frank Blake has poems published or is forthcoming in ¬o-dark-thirty, and Line of Advance.

Glenn Bowie is a published poet, lyricist and photographer from the Boston area. He also owns and operates an elevator company that supplies custom-built elevators for clients from New England to Hollywood. Author of two poetry and photograph collections (Under the Weight of Whispers and Into the Thorns and Honey) on Big Table Publishing, he donates all profits from his books to various charities for the homeless and local animal shelters. Glenn is also the official photographer for the Newton Writing and Publishing Center.