In Sijekovac once stood a Serbian child
in a field of wheat and dirt
not far from the remnants of his home.
With him was another the next day,
and four more the next,
each of whom were brown and grey
from living in such fields.
By the week's end stood
eighteen Serbian children scattered
across the field of wheat and dirt
and soccer ***** and shoes
and shotgun shells
and crimson pools
and a father and his wife
heading to the next nearest village
for more.