Kamand Kojouri

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