(no subject)

[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

Intifada

he just lies there in my head as if
it used to be his, staring up at sky
or a ceiling long gone
I'm shaking
my head very slowly because
if he notices me, the enemy,
he'll never let me stroke his arm
or say I'm sorry he's dead

Jennie Feldman
Parnassus: Poetry in Review
Volume 26, Number 2