Phuc
above the ashtray valley,
blood splattered light
of sunrise shines
on the factory town,
manufacturing marching slaves,
while institutes
groom prostitutes.
hawkers hunt
landmine playgrounds
for stray best friends
who ventured off leashes
and into wet market woks
serving stir-fry stew.
sides of
table—side theater—
cirque du slaughter
offers a show
with the menu.
cages rattle
like hostel cutlery culture,
in corrugated tin places
dishing dog meat plates
from street food
vendor caravans
to starving
hand-me-down
boys and girls.
unrelated,
underlined bold headlines
offer a glimmer of good news -
‘orphanage closes:
westerners adopt the school.’
lightning strikes twice
on page three,
offers of 'buy one,
get twins free’.
