Day 246

There are children on the hospital floor
and they are bleeding to death.
Small children.  Bleeding.
Yesterday they woke, put on their little t-shirts,
pink clogs with images of bunnies, ducks.
Whatever they dreamed has been drowned in blood.
A doctor bends over them, assessing
if he should use the scant gauze he has
on this child or the one beside her.  Who
has the better chance?  The one
with the name of Elsa from Frozen
on her shirt?  The one with the image of Moana
sailing her boat on rough seas, ghost
of her grandmother there to guide her?