Mr. Khaitan

a found poem

colored slippers
car parts, and
bloodied flesh

his brother
his son

Mr. Khaitan paused

unlike many
he looked young
with only a few strands
of gray

he held up the cover
of the local paper

his son
and the other children

smiled from within small circles
that would fit in a locket


Found poem rules remain the same: edits only; nothing re-sequenced. Found in a piece that Damien Cave wrote for the New York Times on a bomb blast that recently went off in Iraq.