MARK J MITCHELL – AN ABSENCE

AN ABSENCE

                                She looks up to see

                                a bathtub dangling



                                three floors up

                                from a three-walled building.



                                Blue pipes leading

                                nowhere in gray air.



                                Bodies, old and young,

                                scatter the ground.



                                She wants to pray

                                but she knows this one thing:



                                All the guardian angels

                                have fled this war zone.

Leave a comment