The Marauders

Flakes of ash flutter in the streets,

catching In your throat.

Leaving you sputtering, gasping for air

with the flames licking at the crumbling

Buildings, like eager children and lollipops.

Rake through the rubble for

something from your past. The

stale stench of urine stained mattresses

greets your nose like an old foe.

Catapulting the breath from your lungs,

you stumble. Dazed and dizzy.

Bare bodies of the neighborhood kids

bare bruises and gashes across their

backs and chests.

Brandishing a billiard stick as your

only defense. The cries and pleas

from the women dragged by their hair

haunt what little sleep you manage.

Cross the cobblestone street in

search of refuge and something to eat.

Nothing but smashed pumpkin brains

sprawled across the way.