A Girl of His Own

Colony in a forest,

he found a girl to spend his

life with. Tommy, and four others, gathered crops

in purple dawn light. “Good time

for invected to come out.”

They, the colonists, where done picking apples,

and corn on the other side

of the valet. They went back

to the Good. He kissed her, she

him. Happy, they went to the Good.

Happy, they held each other, before the gates.

Runnings. They were running

through the woods, the clothes on there

backs rotting, maggots in the eyes, stupid dog-

like eyes, nails like daggers.

All got away. In they went.

Days passed. Something was wrong.

Locked in the house, SHE died.

My Tommy rushed to me, told me what he did—

no tears. Just angry and, like

the war at Kalinga,

Ashoka would be dishearten, so was I.


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