Scorpion
Pincers
skidded off
My
grandfather's shovel as
He
scooped it into a mayonnaise jar.
My
brother and I added a
Lizard
Later.
Swifter
than blinking
Its black
thorn struck.
Perhaps
there was agony,
Perhaps
not,
Though
the green lizard
Writhed
Before it
died.
Huddled Child
With a streak of blood
On your chin,
You are the only casualty,
Save one,
Of this morning's strike against
Al Qaida.
An old woman
Dressed in black,
Her body slumped
Like a sack of rice
Lies in the gutter,
So much blood
For one old woman.
White dust
Of shattered concrete
Burns and
Bomb tears well.
Perhaps
Smart bombs
Should be smarter.
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