Kandahar Massacre

Sixteen corpses washed clean
as dusk tumbles

to dark. Swaddled
in star-white burial sheets, the children’s

fingers make tiny
half-fists like new curls

of wood. Survivors hoist
fresh coffins, begin the mournful

trek to the edge
of the village. Now, 40 days

of prayer.  Her brothers
are wailing. The air weeps.

                After Garcia Lorca