I Want to See Her Eyes
Charity Bryson
pink cotton
draped softly
against ecru skin
fresh unmarred
bent
she sways
wailing from her pink burka
unseen
first rock
is hurled against her
jolting pain
stones
are hurled
and hurled
into her darkness
spent silence
fills the arena
pink
burka
stained scarlet now
lifted gently
by arid wind
from the dusty dun
of a parched earth
fed by her fertile blood