Apr 10, 2009

Garçon de Quatre Ans

His grin
Is gone, replaced
With open horror
Bleeding in
The hole that was his face

His mother
Bleeds next door
Eyes open wide to the wall
Still seeing medics pick
Her son up off the grass

Her arms
Now forming scars
Were not enough
To wrench life from its jaws
It tore him ear from ear