No Flag on the Hill

No Flag on the Hill He woke to the hiss of burning plastic a child's shoe, half-melted in the road. Something like singing came from the mosque, but it was only wind through broken glass. The birds left weeks ago. Even the dogs are quiet now. A rusted swing creaks in a schoolyard where no one plays anymore. A mother once painted the front gate blue. Now it’s ash and wire. Someone drew a border right through our kitchen tiles. They boil rice with rainwater and clove, eat in silence. Outside, a drone's red eye blinks, blinks, blinks and does not blink away.