Soft words that have never spoken

Soft words that have never spoken
Inside the abandoned tennis shoe
Of a child….
On a Texas riverbank….

still warm imprint of Hotneh 
Steam rising
from its track
Howling across
The miraging rain….

torn white cloth of skin and fear
as a grey moth escaped from a torn nightmare

On concertina wire shining under a full moon….

We must begin the war drums

The dog soldier texts
Marina de Lesina 
August 13.19

Hotneh (wolf)