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“for Falasteen

the boy i adored at sixteen gifted me his keffiyeh
feeling guilty for living when others were killed
simply for existing i haven’t seen him in sixteen years
but think of him often these days his grandmother’s purse
still carrying keys to their home believing they’d return
in weeks can it even be called a key
if what it unlocked is no longer there?
we’d sneak onto mall rooftops & pretend shooting
only happened with stars! 'we have a duty of memory,'
he said, 'so they’ll kill us all until only the soil
is witness' how could i reply? i sat in my liquid silence
today there are nurseries of martyrs
they bomb babies for they fear enemies
hiding between pacifiers & tiny wrists
bomb hospitals because enemies hide in ICU bedpans
bomb schools because enemies hide in children’s bags
bomb the oldest mosques & churches because enemies
hide in rosary beads & votive candles
they bomb journalists because enemies are hiding
under their PRESS vests & helmets
bomb poets because enemies hide in pages
of peace poems the elderly are bombed
because enemies hide under their canes
the disabled are bombed because they harbour
enemies in their artificial limbs
they raze & burn all the ancient trees
because enemies make bombs from olives
they bomb water treatment plants
because enemies are now water
& so it goes: justification provided
exoneration granted business as usual
& the boy I adored has green-grey eyes
the colour of fig leaves
we don’t speak but i wish to tell him
'i’m sorry the world is a blade i’m sorry
home is blood & bones i’m sorry music
is sirens & wails i’m sorry night is infinite'
but the boy I adored has grey-green eyes
the colour of forgotten ash”
― Kamand Kojouri