This is what you do 0n patrol in the woods, Fort Lewis, Washington, when no one is there: You happen upon a trillium white and secret as God in a shadow. You bow down saying, "Thank you for showing me what’s inside." Six months later on patrol in Fallujah you happen upon a girl three days dead in the rubble, her body cut nearly in half by American fire, your fire, my fire. Her large intestine blossoms in the desert sun, a terrible sweetness in your nostrils. You bow down saying, "Thank you for showing me what's inside." It is your last war.