Amongst the rubble
of an apartment complex,
half the second floor
room gone, sits a man,
legs crossed in the one
lone chair, his arm hanging
listlessly off the arm of
the green chair against all
the gray wreckage as he
stares at a charcoal scribbled
T.V. on the wall, drawings
of end tables and flower
pots on either side of the
imaginary television.
Stark, clean, sparse…and heart-breaking. “We had to destroy the village in order to save it.”