Day 427

The girl puts her hand on her brother’s shoulder,
reassures him she’ll be all right.
She’ll be the one to go out looking
for bread.  Her brother is tired.  All afternoon
he’s been pulling bodies out of the rubble:
friends, neighbors.  The girl
puts on her brother’s sweater, the one
sweater they have between them.  
She steps out into the early darkness,
walks past tents where people sit
talking about their day, past
children crying, half-dressed, cold.
Past a woman sitting alone, singing
something that sounds like a dirge
or a lullaby.  Walks past people
carrying empty pots and a boy
who is eating half a banana
and looks at her, breaks off
a piece, offers it to her.  She takes
it, tastes its sweetness.  Out there
beyond the tents the sky
is vast. A thin crescent moon,
almost golden, hangs over the distant hills
amid a few stars.  It’s the last
thing she sees before the explosion.