The Mickey Mouse mitten on the arid,
Lonely rise pierces the eyes. Long search
Frustrated, requited on this savannah. I
Stand in somber requiem before the Disney
Knitwear. Mickey’s plastic face on the palm
Stares wide empty eyes over a welcome smile,
Overwrought, an unctuous bridge to a magic
Castle. The sparse remains of a child’s withered
Body lay shallow in hard, bitter soil where once
Lions thrived with pride of pride and Zulus ruled.
I burn to knit the boy back to life, feed him full,
Make Mickey ecstatic. I can only step away from
These infamous bones under an impious, gray sky
And wait for sunlight on my shuttered, blue eyes.
