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.