The face of a little man there

Thinking of others

I wonder how hard his head hurts
as he pushes his nose into the dirt
and his eyes look through to our world
peering and staring at ourselves unfurl
like birds, like un-elegant flamingos
crooked elbows and knees pose
like a doll tossed in the bin
so he stares

He is not much better
having his face in the dirt
and the burning eyes for a little
sight
We'll never see his hands
We'll never see his body
Just the two eyes
Perhaps kind.
evermore.