For Zein al-Din Suleiman Moin al-Najjar, Age 0
Scripture in shrapnel, hailstorm Of jagged, clustered platitude. Read The verse concerning drone strike , the Chapter on dismemberment . What begets These deaths, these fissures & eruptions In dailiness? & what permits their retreat Into something to ignore? Zein, there Is too little country to engulf in flame, Slivers of tinder, remnants in the helical Warp & weft of living to shine bright Under glare of bomb. As if holding The weapon demands its use. As if Spelling a god’s name with bullet Is itself some piety. Here, it started In infancy– a culture conjuring A god & a country as cosigners To mortal debt. Out of their belly Barbarians spill, swords dripping blood. A ventriloquist’s act setting hook & barb In tendons of fear & yanking hard. What god wouldn’t coddle you & keep you? Your fractional animus. Your empty lexicon. Your tuft of Swirling black hair. & the world you saw Before it burst. We are a vile species, Z...