convulsing on concrete
unable to swallow water
[when the the men came
all that was left was a pool of
saliva and gravel and bewilderment]
your crumpled paper body
wrapped in black, streaked
with dirt, racked with pain
the clean white uniform
felt less like an achievement
and more like an accusation.
she held you in her arms
she is no pieta;
unable to speak shaking helpless desperate tears
the years chiseled into her bones
the child looked up with
hollow, questioning eyes;
he knows more than i do
and yet understands nothing
discarded, you are less
than what you came with
and i only stood to watch
the last few grains
of poor man's hourglass
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