A narrative poem of "A police officer named Karla"
A police officer named Karla, groping along the tunnel, step by step,
She winked her prying torch with patching glare
From side to side, and sniffed the unwholesome air.
Tins, boxes, bottles, shapes too vague to know,
A mirror smashed, the mattress from a bed;
And she, exploring fifty feet below
The rosy gloom of a mission overhead.
Tripping, she grapped the wall; saw someone lie
Humped at her feet, half-hidden by a rug,
And stooped to give the sleeper's arm a tug.
"I'm looking for headquarters." No reply.
"God blast your neck!" (For days he'd had no sleep.)
"Get up and guide me through this stinking place."
Savage, she kicked a soft, unanswering heap,
And flashed her beam across the livid face
Terribly glaring up, whose eyes yet wore
Agony dying hard ten days before;
And fists of fingers clutched a blackening wound.
Alone she staggered on until she found
Dawn's ghost that filtered down a shafted stair
To the dazed, muttering creatures underground
Who hear the boom of shells in muffled sound.
At last, with sweat of horror in her hair,
she climbed through darkness to the twilight air,
Unloading hell behind her step by step.
I hope this helps.