Body,
small,
lying there on
the couch, where
they brought her,
Brown eyes
in chocolate skin,
Thousand Yard Stare,
I’d seen too many times
before,
Nam, the Killing Streets,
but never so
Young as six. Silent staring,
hurt and unable to
understand or even cry.
Too young
to fear, too old
to listen
to her brother tell her what to do.
Watch out for the truck!
Cop, blue eyes, seeing too much.
Wait outside, direct the ambulance and
Do the job.
Don’t think about
what can’t be helped.
Do the job.
Heard later that she
didn’t make it... Knew it
from the eyes I’d seen
too many times before.
Off work, driving,
Blue eyes, haunted, trying
to see through a film
of tears, seeing
Brown Eyes,
that would
never cry
again.