You tell me how you knew someone over there

Whose job it was to examine the dead bodies,

Look at photographs of suicide bombers after

They had blown themselves up, study the scene,

Count the limbs, and chart the movement of

Bodies across highways.  And you tell me how

There would be meetings about this, the images

Projected onto a screen, so everyone could see

A tongue coming out of a head with no body

Right at the base, where the neck should be,

Saying to me, you don’t know what that is like, and

You are right.

I don’t know.  I could never know what that is like.

But what I do know is this, how the bodies followed

You home, disseminated, in pieces, how you are still

Trying to put them back together.  I know that I am here,

Holding this paper house together, four walls and a roof,

Holding our marriage in my hands like a struggling bird.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s