one pit in my stomach,
two, staring back:
one hand reaching,
two pinkies, linked.

after the dust settles
the soldiers dirty their sheets,
crying death until they’re
empty of it all,

swollen and puffy eyes,
bruises in the shape of rivers,
eyeshadow too red,
lashes slick.

one pit in my stomach,
two, staring back:
one slow blink,
two tears, falling.