A single caravan in a field of cropped corn
has a sagging awning to give just
one small square of shade. Not enough.
Washing wrinkles on the line, dry in an eye-blink.
A boy squints at it: black tropic
on an invisible globe of heat. He is a lizard
who barely breathes on the metal step.
His plastic soldiers have all been sacrificed,
sweating out action poses until their tiny deaths.
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