Day 579

Her older cousin is teaching her
to count in English.  The child
is five.  One two three four five
fingers (still there).  Enough
to get all the way to ten.
Two hands, two arms, two legs.
Two eyes.  One nose.  One
mouth (still there). Five
sisters.  Three brothers.  But
didn’t there used to be more?
One killed in front of them
by a sniper.  Two killed
early on in the genocide,
when their uncle’s house
was bombed (three
cousins, one uncle, one aunt,
one grandfather). And arms:
What about Hammed,
who has only one?  Or Fatima,
who used to have two — then
none.  How many times
have we eaten today?  There’s
a number called Zero. Zero.
Let’s make marks with this stick
in the dust.  A mark
for Zero: a circle
that’s empty.  Nothing inside it.