Letter From The Front # 54

—from the front, date and time undisclosed—

Ouzo, arak, pastis, raki—there are so many ways of setting anise on fire in cigar-plugged bottles.

Some days I forget to listen to the “gods”—they all think they’re gods. Their medaled threats make such a racket, but nothing’s louder than my rucksack rubbing against my flack jacket.

I spent all day thinking about the sound of rip-stop fabric—it’s like a bulldozed field of cheap silk flowers.

Some days I steal arak from our neighbors. Get drunk. Lose my helmet.

Originally from Lakeland, Florida, Mandy Malloy is a writer and graphic designer living in Brooklyn, N.Y. She is currently finishing her MFA in poetry at Hunter College while doing a day shift in corporate advertising. Her poems have appeared in City Writers Review and The Whitman Sampler.