Day 929

Tell me what it was like,
she asks her sister,
lying together in their tent,
wind blowing fiercely
outside, drones
buzzing — tell me
what it was like
in our neighborhood.
Tell me the things
I can’t remember,
things I was too young
to take in: the park
you were allowed
to go to, the store
where you bought
the pastries you’d
bring home — Tell me.
Her sister closes her eyes
so she can remember,
so she has one true thing
to tell her;
but all she can think of
are buildings gutted
and collapsed, trees
stripped of their leaves,
glass windows of shops
shattered, shards glistening
in the rubble. One dog
standing alone on top
of a pile of blasted concrete,
his eyes empty, his fur singed.