The Trophy

S.P. Flannery

 

In the ruins of Petra,
children from across the Atlantic
run about the magnificent facades,
carved into sheer crimson cliffs
to profit from trade routes
in Roman times, A Middle Eastern
Tikal, where Bedouins squat
and try to profit from tourists
who wait for backs to turn,
blithe attention distracted in a haze,
hand-spaced holes allow the adventurous
to reach gold that hasn't
fallen from the barrage of bullets
by men too afraid to follow
where young girls and boys climb
because others have done the same,
unwilling to be the only ones
at the pension without a story.