"A Martyr's Resting Place."
A body just about to be buried.
I see a soldier on his knees, still a kid.
His rifle rests in his lap.
You can hear the guttural murmur of Arabic.
Sorrow glitters in cycles under the eyes.
The man passed their open palms across their faces.
As the rights continue, I feel the presence
of God in everything.
When this is over, I will take a pen and make a list of my sins.
Now everything in me resists that.
As my tongue passes over my teeth,
I can sense the taste of a woman's lipstick.
No one is crying.
I keep quiet.
A cat jumps across the shadow of a minaret.