If I Had to Dig a Graveyard in Afghanistan

There are rocks in the sand.

Holes would be deep.

A grave is basically a hole.

Put Americans in the center.

Two thousand graves,

Arranged like an obelisk

Out of respect for Afghans,

With a cross in the middle,

Made from six hundred other troops,

And then, maybe twenty thousand

Afghan tombs in concentric circles,

Like a radiating sun,

A prayer rug from heaven.

No, it would look like a cross hair.

Better to dig straight lines,

Row after row.

Of what is left.

Just mix everybody up.

Probably the women, too.

They have earned it.