One Year

 

A lanky bearded man appeared.
He gave off a sharp smell
 
of sodden carrion, flies 
buzzed around his wounds.
 
He is thoughtful. He is real. 
He is the head of the River Martyrs.
 
They work out of an abandoned
kindergarten a few blocks away.
 
The bulldozer scooped up a few
bucketfuls and emptied them
 
into a long mass grave
only partly filled with dirt.
 
While he was leading a prayer,
a thief made off with his good shovel.