Inspired by Kristi P-L, USAF, Iraq 2009-2010
The Trade
She packed up her comfy jeans
and laying-around T-shirts
She shrugged into a heavy canvas uniform,
now her second skin
Boxed up her peep-toe high heels and sandals
and stacked them away
Now all she’s got are dusty high-top boots
with heavy tread
No delicate black eyeliner around lovely hazel eyes
Just smudges of purple, her badges of fatigue
No long showers here
Just unshaved legs so she looks like
the rest of the troops
Forget salon haircuts with mousse or gel
In marches a permanent helmet-head hairdo
She strains to remember how lovely
that last manicure felt
Handling weapons with broken, scraggy fingernails, unpolished and blunt
Velvety cosmetic powder abandoned at home
She wears the Iraqi desert upon her face
Late night chat-fests with friends
of her choosing,
No more
Now, it’s early morning wake-up and drill
No delicate sparkling pendants around her neck
Just a dull metal chain with tags
that identify her blood type
While mother’s comforting shoulder
and soothing touch wait at home
She learns combat strategies and
how to react to roadside bombs
Instead of cradling a tiny baby
She crawls into a burdened flak jacket
that hides her girlish figure
She rolls out with a loaded M4 and a 9mm Beretta.
Karen R. Sanderson 