It’s the one you don’t hear
that gets you,

sniper’s bullet maybe,
honing in
at two thousand feet
a second plus.

Even if it hits a limb
you’ve had it.

The first you’ll know of it
is when you’re dead,

looking down perhaps
at a body folded in
on itself,

Looking down
and making suggestions,
but for some reason
they ignore you.

Looking down,
watching your mates
moving the body into cover,

and then getting it –
the pieces fit,
it’s your body –
first time you’ve seen
yourself from outside.

And there you are,
crumpled with that
special absence
which signals death.

No one here anymore,
no one home,
moved on…..

finished for now,
no use for flesh anymore.

Now there are other
worlds to meet.

another life to find
if there is one,

if not, then say goodbye
to the newly departed.

It’s the one you don’t hear
that gets you, so keep your
ears open all the time.