My Fallen Comrade by Jay Davis


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The slick stream of oil and blood flowing
Down the metal plating that had composed
His visage was a sight that exposed
A newborn revulsion that had begun growing
In my gut and soul. I was undergoing
Sensations of mourning and rage juxtaposed
In a way that I had never supposed
Could exist in my mind. He was slowing,
Binary impulses slurring as power stopped.
A silver hand reached out toward me --
An entreaty of mine he had decided to adopt
When we were brought onto this apogee
Of engineering ability. And as he dropped
To the deck, I fired in grief at my enemy.