you alone in
the house of truths
the news of twelve soldiers
ambushed and slaughtered
the news of bodies being
set on fire and
dragged through city streets
and not the sun but almost
not warmth but
the memory of it
the snow melted and
the streets grey and the screams
of animals caught in traps
the blurred reflections of strangers
in the windshields of empty cars
all of these words and all of
these images that refuse to
add up to anything more than
themselves but you still have to
stop and consider each one
you still have to dig
until the bodies are found
it shouldn't take much longer
than the rest of your life