I found him on the street:
green, like camouflage, I almost overlooked him,
among the brown October leaves
by the gray sidewalk.
One arm raised
but the raised arm broken off at the shoulder;
whatever it held had dropped.
One hand to his open mouth
broken off, too,
his mouth frozen in strained silence.
Like an ancient Greek statue
hauled from the seafloor,
his war, forgotten,
arms broken off from battles with robbers or time.
Hiding in the brown leaves–
who was he trying to signal?
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