Hearing Nothing In The Snow

    
It was from an open balcony,    
where I saw,    
surrounded by    
war-torn deserted streets    
circling the (ruins of an) arena,    
and muffled by a    
winter dusting falling    
where there was no sky,    
muting the    
approach of horses.    
    
Black crows perch    
on a gentle sway of    
each horse’s back, to their    
synchronized lockstep,    
as mesmerizing    
as the brown shirts, who    
trot next to a solemn truck    
in its slow percussion.    
     
A frail boy with a rabbit,    
comes out of hiding    
from behind    
an overturned sedan    
that still smolders    
from when it was torched    
since before    
the snow had come.    
     
A shrill voice cracks the ice.    
“Halt! Schnell    
den Weg frei machen!”    
     
The boy with onyx eyes    
raises the    
limp rabbit in offering.    
It was dead.    
     
A soldier jumps from the    
truck, fixing a    
bayonet to his rifle,    
then runs up to the boy    
as he lunges.    
     
The horses, with their    
Grecian necks of amber,    
toss long manes,    
flaming.