They wander the Gobi
in search of wings,
step instead into a red snare.
Only the sorrowing stars see
their pain drenched hope.
They stretch out their
hands to see if perhaps
it is that they are
invisible and discover that
the face of Kim Jong-un
is tattooed on their skin.
They watch the news –
more than one channel now –
and ask the birds if
America will blow up
their mother’s cousin, who
wasn’t discovered watching
a Hollywood movie and
is still alive in the maw
of the regime, hoping that
the stars will call to the moon,
“Sister, what is happening here?”
Katelyn Thomas is a poet and photographer who works in the children’s department of her local library. She spends her free time hiking, reading and watching her rambunctious hens cavorting in the sunlight. She has most recently been published in Social Justice Poetry and Haiku Journal.
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