They carried what they had in garbage bags and knapsacks,
long lines of them winding down country roads, through barren
fields to the edge of town, then onto numbered streets, by rows
of leafless trees and heaps of rubble. When they reached
the central square, they covered themselves with blankets
and pieces of cardboard, and slept on benches or leaned
on broken slabs of concrete, smoking, watching the faint
gray flags of their breath being lifted away, the swift moon
climbing the sky, their thin dogs searching for carrion.