Aftershock

Bricks scattered like toys after playing,
a pig rooting in a flowerbed,
the cot, the couch, the fireplace buried,
masks hiding the mouths and noses
of men who lift stone from bone,
children sifting ashes for what is broken,
tumbling already out of memory.

What survives: cup, comb, picture frame,
bunting got ready for a festival,
crops waiting in accusing ripeness,
a girl who startles birds to flight and laughs.

Published, 2003, in The Rialto, Issue 54.