Kiyv

An old man carrying a piece of fish
and two small green oranges
wrapped in brown paper and string
stared up at a wounded apartment building

the windows like gaping mouths
welcoming marauders
the burns requiring bandages
to cover the skin.

He stood and stared
listening to voices
weeping in the fog
over every single soul.

The married had died
the children had died
the parents had died
most of the heroes had died.

That night the old man and his wife died
on the same day
in the same hour, the same minute
the invader will say they died of old age.

.