today I watch them kill a boy
stick thin and barely ten years old
blue-skinned he shivers from the cold
I can hear his ribs make noise
like shiny wind chimes in August

they wrap his face in a bag
the cloth is black but I know
the bag is clear
I can see everything
pearls trailing down his skin
white lips trembling the lightness
of his pupils nothing
has color anymore everything
they hide in their body bag
as opaque as twinkling New York
when the transformers fail

I don't hear his ribs anymore
is August nearing or ending?
the wind chimes the wind chimes
no longer shine the black bag
obscures all answers