cowbell alley

O pascal,
groan like a wolf after the grey blood spills into it's cold dirt.
The sun comes easing over the slopes
lickslow, rolling us under it's breast.
This pool of sand is my home. I am relieved.
The coyotes cry like tortured women at night.
My father brought us here. He sleeps.
My hair is heavy, he says we'll find a shower soon.
we're all a shade of dust.
Mom is tired. Dad says the war is coming.
They'll draft little girls,
me. I have a plan for escape.
I haven't met anyone my age since I was ten.