Dawn Sheryl Koenig

River Boat Through Cambodia

Our riverboat threads, lapping Cambodian tears.
The great river meridian leaps, tonguing wild woe.
Ghostly shadows of people bob where once tossed,
like in India’s Ganges, watery forks push death.

Onwards, filed fields wax greens with axes.
Serfs trowel earth, digging living mines.
Explosions never rare, nor unsheathed meat.
Fractured bones mend hell’s Mensa jigsaw puzzles.

Overturned Cambodia is mined like earthen potatoes.
Explosive purple eyes, snake out barren cupboards.
Limbless veterans drag crutch and sling for change.
Babies wail despair, ...