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10 October 2005 @ 12:47 pm

by Vincent Meis

Awake mid slumber
Sounds move through me
Like a chill
Iraqi child crying out
Or is it screams of bombs
Raining down
Or both
Before they become one
His screams
Bomb screams
One scream
His eyes burn
With the flash
That cuts through night
Night to day
In an instant
And to blackness again
Walls rattle like
His rusty bed
His unfed bones
Water barrel shakes
Side his kitchen cot bed
Sends out smells of unclean
Putrid water from a distant trough
That killed his brother
From other side of curtain
Mother softly comforts
But in her heart moaning
Let this one live
Not like the first born of '91
The second in fever death
And we the silent partner
in this horror, this fear
but no more
he has called to me
I his voice to shout
I his feet to march