Member Rara Avis
Drag bodies out from the hills.
Pull pictures free from their frames.
Lay tar on broken streets.
List repairs, their costs, on a clipboard.
Get the lights on in the hospital.
Cast seeds in rows to the soil
tumbling from both sides of the blade.
Set down a table, and a chair,
surreal survivors untouched by bombs,
near the scarred and open mouth
of an office without walls.
Clean your gun and head for the coastline.
Watch the skiffs out in the distance,
the sails, white flashing, in the sun.