The Old Indian

His eye
His sad, sad right
eye.  The left,
he lost in the war-
fighting for his people.
It was a long, long time
ago.  He was younger
then, and believed
in everything.

Now there is nothing left
to fight for, and he's not even sure
that he was right.

The wooden beam of his home
            (the tree he axed and heaved and hewed
            with his two strong hands)
Now holds him up.

He ponders the past, those days of conviction,
        when the blood of his veins raged for revenge.

Now he hopes simply to live another day.

One eye missing
One button missing
One thumb missing

He's lost so many things, but gained others --
      wrinkles,
                         scars,
                                        gray hairs.

It's so difficult to smile.

The Bloodied Ship

The wood of the ship creaks as it drifts, isolated in a sun-filled sea. Above deck the sails are open ready to catch wind, however the deck is lifeless, the only way to tell humans have touched this ship at all is the viscera spread across the deck. Unrecognizable bits of tendon, muscle and flesh paint the boards. When the ship is found it will be assumed the bloody mess simply came from a hunted whale; however, this is not the case. Everyone asks if or when a zombie apocalypse will occur, never realizing instead of wiping out earth, it decimated the crew of a poor whaling ship.