Day 595

Overhead there’s a drone.
Is this one for you?
You’re ten.  You’ve been sent
by your grandmother, the only
family you have left, to find
some water.  She
can’t walk.  She has promised
she’ll make some rice for
the two of you if you can find
water to boil it, and you think
you know where to find some
when suddenly you hear the drone
and you know you need to hide.
You’re ten.  Ten.  You press
your back against a fallen wall.
You try not to move.  Not even
to breathe.  You know the drone
is searching for a target
and you don’t want that
to be you.  You close your eyes.
You try to picture the rice:  a plate
full of rice, maybe some greens.
You imagine its fragrance.  Imagine
your grandmother bringing a spoonful
of rice to her dry lips.  The drone
still buzzes above you.  You crack open
one eye.  You see it’s passing.
Who will it find now, if this time
it isn’t you?  The boy
you were playing with
this morning?