i have stood here
for thirty-seven seconds,
and watched while twenty-three birds
took flight into the sky,
leaving behind, forgotten,
this park's only remnants of life:

empty swings and trees
stretched to carve a cave,
filled with
broken slides and sandy shoes,
the last soundless smiles
of this city's only true children,
left to lie in wait
of a new civilization.

tonight the skies will cry
and the soldiers will bleed
and the rivers will run
with one common theme:
...i think it should be 'hope',
but this city's wars
are lost in shattered syllables,
and the reformists and the nurses
who are supposed to provide relief
only seem to succeed
in extending sympathy
(because that's all
that their broken prayers will permit).

and i wonder if their god can see...
that all of our flags are folded,
except for one, which is raised to shine
in mocking,