NO CASUALTIES REPORTED

NO CASUALTIES REPORTED
 

No one counted him,
the little donkey
in the photograph
below the headlines.
 
A white donkey,
his life shackled to scrap iron
and watermelons,
who surely stood still
as they strapped the saddle
of dynamite to his body,
until they patted his behind
spurring him on with a yallah itlah
to the enemy lines –
 
Only then
mid-road
did he notice the pale grass
sprouting between the stones
and he strayed
from the plot
in order to munch,
belonging only to himself
in the ticking silence.
 
It was not written who fired:                   
those who feared he would turn back
or those who refused the approaching gift
but when he rose to heaven
in a blaze
the donkey was promoted to
explosive messiah
and seventy-two pristine jennets
licked his wounds.
 

NO CASUALTIES REPORTED