You, Who’ve Come To The Gate,

will notice his skin which their fires have charred & you will see his nose
is not…but a plastic snout & wires & his ears no longer & no texture but a yellow waxen shine &

you will notice her stumps where there once were hands which could sew & stir the pot & stroke a young boy’s face & you may note her silence but will never ask, “What have they done with her tongue.”

After: Kosovo 1999

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