The Strike

The armored vehicle was rolling down
To meet the men in armor, masks--the black
Of each were shadows in the evening sun--
The heavy vehicle smashed out a crack

Into a pothole none would come to fill.
With heavy arms, grenades the men in black
Joined with the armored vehicle and turned
Into an alleyway for their attack.

And in the aftermath, a pregnant woman,
Two children under five were dead, their black
Bodies were smoldering out in the yard
Of their still red-glowing charcoaled old shack.

And no one dared to care for the deceased
For fear that they'd also become well-policed.