War
A sound, a noise, a roaring
Then
He lay in a gray polen
Of dust.
A rough wind
Moves his soaked hair,
White
In day’s paleness.
Then
A deafening silence.
He smiles
In pain.
She runs up:
Young as spring
Swelled by love, bright red and burning.
Then
Her violet gaze
Falls
And shatters:
Sliding of sharp tears.
The instant of a pause
In the beating
Of her withered
Heart.
Then
Blinding,
Howling agony.
Then
The soft insanity
When Anger thunders.
Death winked at her
And was on his way again.