red
drops gleam
catching setting
sun's last rays
father, brother
scream
blood seeps
from her
the setting
sun's light warms
our dying
mother's face
rockets
explode
a
butterfly of color
in
my father's chest
toddler falls
neighbors fleeing
crush
her limbs
eight
years old
my
back against a stone house wall
I
watch neighbors die
bombs threaten
children
nation's
leader's ladies
gather
for lunch and poems
(c) 2003 Linda Lockett Eisele