Today there is a truce for a day.
The soldiers can sleep in.
Some will be alive for one more day.
They will have time to send a last message home,
remember their first crush,
regret some words spoken a long time ago,
become aware of the dust in their eyes and the salt in their hearts,
the way that label at the neck of a t shirt irritates the skin.
Some will sleep until it is time to go out again on patrol
dressed like trolls coming out of a book about the mouth of the night.