two more
swallows of
this coffee
gone rancid
and cold,
i'll be on
my way
attempting
to make it
back through
the trenches
and barbed
wire.
praying that
it won't
be there,
waiting
for me,
that trap
i've set
and fallen
onto and into
so often.
each time,
forgetting
where
exactly it
has been
laid.