COLD

Trying to make sense,

Of bombed Afghan tents,

Tassels, bits of bone,

And frankincense.

Girl by the road,

Kerosene stove,

Cold baby nose,

And boot prints.

Wool knit cap,

Small hand in lap,

Blue primer lips,

Her saving grace.

Only the heat,

Vipers will seek,

She strips clothes,

Away.

Something above,

Darkness, not love,

Ravens will give her,

Away.

Better to merge,

Cold child with earth,

Sand of her fathers,

She prays.