Day 965

A bomb explodes
on a mother
and her weeks’ old son.
The mother is killed
instantly; the infant
has one of his legs
blown off, bleeds
profusely, but is saved.
The mother is buried
with her infant’s leg.
Leg that grew
inside her, leg
she swaddled, bathed,
rubbed with oil.
The infant will grow now
with no mother, no leg
on the side that was held,
at that moment,
against his mother’s
body. Forever
he will remember the leg
by its absence. Will think
of it in the earth
beside his mother, a part
of him that accompanied her.
A part of him that will never
be separated from her.