Assault

It comes in disguise.

Before dawn,

on a mattress of old coils.

It comes in hand-

some, in polite, in

five-foot-ten cordial.

It comes in the dorms,

next to soldiers,

sailors, airmen: sleeping.

It comes in a blackout,

in 90-proof rum.

It comes without proof.

It comes despite

my training in tactical

surprise, my dexterity

in handling a bullet clip,

my eye’s 20/20

through a rifle’s site.

It comes so easily,

no camouflage,

I don’t even see it.