(Gaza Feb 29 2024)
A small grey rectangle
The aid truck arrives
Iron filings converge upon a magnet
Ants swarming a dropped chocolate
They may have weapons
hidden in their skeletal hands
Their hunger may be explosive
Hard to tell
from so great a height
if assault rifles
have gone off
A last meal
of high calibre bullets
Hunger lying arms
outspread
twig thin
The looks on the faces
of the killers and the killed
Too far below
to register
against the rubble