We don’t sleep anymore, waking,
unwaking, all the same nightmare.
Today tragedy killed us — we
are servants of God but the War,
pounding its giant steps, found
our home, and I found all my life,
my daughter’s body, in a gauze
of dust, acrid smoke perfuming
her careful shape, my worried hands
on her death-marbled face, fingers
scared to touch the truth. I
hear my ghost wailing.
Steven Croft is the author of two chapbooks, Coastal Scenes and Moment and Time. He has recent poems in Politics/ Letters Live, Sky Island Journal, and As It Ought to Be Magazine.