The Coldest Thing I Remember

Just Shoot Me

What I wouldn’t give for hot coffee.
I stand in formation, wind eroding the edges
of my nose and earlobes.
On my stomach, I am numb in slush,
teeth chattering:
   “Be all you can be.
    Be all you can be.
    Be all you can be.” 

Against the wind,
I feel no heat, no hope.

---David Chapman