In the spice drawer is a bottle
nearly empty— tiny red flakes
of dried pepper from the hills
where, just a few days ago,
a colorless burning descended
through the air. In the beds
of emergency vehicles,
did the children whose heads
loll as if sightless
smell what was coming?
Don’t talk about pity.
Don’t talk about shock
or outrage. Don’t flutter
your flag at poor half-mast.
In response to Via Negativa: Bombing for peace.