the other way

in the age of skeletons
we were gods

in the fields we held shovels
held lists of names
but we found no one

we were thirsty at the
river’s edge
and afraid to drink

the stories were all true

deformed children
mother’s with their wombs of blood
always the fear of an unknown
                                           enemy

always the soldiers in
groups of three or four

the need to make examples
of the men
before the raping began

nothing to be done with
so many bodies but
burn them