Day 376

There’s a video of the child —
not two years old — walking
in the living room of his house,
throwing a ball.  Laughing.  Then
the genocide comes and hunger
begins to consume him.  He grows
smaller, weaker.  Doesn’t walk
across the room, leaves the ball
in a corner.  Whatever food
his parents find, they give to him.
He eats:  avidly at first.  Then weakness
surpasses hunger.  His mother
holds him as she did
when he was a newborn.  His body
grows backward.  Dissolves.
Evaporates.  Each hour he grows
closer to the Nothing he came from.
At last it takes him
from his mother’s arms, 
folds him into itself.