Drug War: the Philippines

Above the eastern ridge,
a hawk enters its one figure
of accomplishment for the day:
the widest circle, the biggest

zero darkly brushed against
an unmarked page. I can respect
its talons, the purity of its
mathematics; its indifference

even when, from hunger,
it snatches up a vole or snake
or other creature from the ground
—But never what underwrites

the growing tally of hapless
bodies fallen in the streets:
the poor, the young, every day
sheathed in blood and placards.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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