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.