~ "One eye sees, the other feels." (Paul Klee)
We threw down sticks to shape
a rune and counted numbers
burned into six-sided cubes
of bone. Adding them up,
we looked for guidance
from stars that were
no longer there, except for
telegrams of light they tried
to send from out of their
aftermath. We asked
how long we have to live
inside this temple of war;
how many more weeks
we'll wander without
food or sleep or shade. On one side
of a wall, willows droop with names
of missing children. On the other, flares
sputter; flies hover over fetid pools of rain.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.