by C. Z. Heyward
it was time to leave
wings of the sparrow
loping through juniper berries
caress my lids into submission
she's nesting
as I've fed her soft grain
as an afterthought
one pint at a time
zoophilous screams of the quartet
wane on down the boulevard
I jump in a taxi
less I'm seduced back inside
He asks me
Where to my brother
In the moment
it was only cue I needed
I ask him
What brings you here
Bad dreams
his reply
About my children
orphans all them
I ask
civil war
Worse
Poachers
How worse
Their mothers can't fight back
Because elephants can't shoot rifles
Orphans have nightmares
Crying well into the night
Then through the sunrise
And sunset
He tells me
He bedded with them
No more than straw
And a blanket
but the screams of infants
fell like mourning stars
in between the cackles of hyenas
Feasting on the flesh of their mothers
So he left
No longer able to soothe
innocence mutilated
he's trying to remember to forget
but he's like them now
nothing is forgotten
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