A flock of birds with glider wingspans and needle beaks rose from the waves as they began their 7,000-mile journey to the Arctic Circle. Banking away from New Zealand toward the heavens, they had no idea what was in store for them.

As I acclimated to the heat, I noticed my skin’s weight for the first time. My subcutaneous fat layer pressed against the epidermis, the tissue, and the muscle, pushing them apart.

As a military police officer in the 1970s, I responded to multiple shots fired calls, homicides, vehicle accidents, armed robberies, assaults, bar fights and brawls (there is a difference), and many other incidents.

New poems by J. Raymond Bennett: “Tourniquet” and “Different Than Before”