—FUNNY, BUT IT SEEMS I ALWAYS WIND UP HERE WITH YOU

 

Bucha 

 

 

there’s a choir of bones

followed by a chorus of 

lament and moaning

the soil as rich as 

a scorched flag 

while tank wheels trundle

over another body 

on its way to shell a 

hospital or orphanage

the driver pausing to 

check his Twitter feed

take a bite out of his 

hero sandwich before

refocusing on 

the task at hand