T. R. Hummer
After the explosion, no one knew what to do For the boy who’d stood closest to the abandoned leather briefcase. By some miracle, he was the only one injured. It erupted In an incense of sulfur and nails as he made his way To steal it. Holiness has an aura, everyone knows that, But why would terrorists bother to murder a thief? The ethics of this question paralyzed everyone in sight While the boy, unable to breathe, watched God wandering The station in a business suit, asking occasional strangers Have you seen my briefcase? There was something urgent in it.