Bent across a crooked knee,
thighs against a swollen stomach,
she lay unmoving in the grass,
oblivious to the waiting vulture.
her tiny fists raised in surrender,
Mistaking the camera for a gun,
She trembled as he took the picture.
He stood on top of the mountain,
stumbling over skulls yet to be ground,
yearning for a glimpse of the horizon.
She hugged the giraffe close to her body
it’s neck encircling her legs
Gun at her shoulder,
trophy at her feet.
They worked hard all day,
smelling of fertilizer
grinding from dawn to dusk,
the hundred-score bison skulls.
He looked into the kind eyes,
the smiling uniformed adult,
the blurred flag folded in his arms,
it came home in exchange for his father.
She was born blind, mute, and deaf,
hands spinning wonders,
Safe and sound,
Untouched and alone.
He beheld the soft body,
face-down against the snow,
laid down his gun and wept
The sun rose again
Where warm tears tore against the barren land,
a solitary dandelion grew.