Guernica

Dear World Leaders,

The pulse of the sun beat mercilessly.
Thrumming against parched skin
And holding hostage tufts of air
Stifled in their bosoms.

Children tugging on sleeves
As soft breath heats pre-flushed cheeks.
Teeth, tongue, throat
Dry to the bone.

Relived in memory
The first five were not enough.
Denials, denials of involvement:
Indifference rampant among the populace.

The innocent—almost in pieces
Voices rejoicing
As the metallic taste eases
Nonplussed as the dust all but settles.

Sincerely,

The Disregarded