metonymy4u

                        Girls enslaved by Afghan poppy drivers found rose petals
                        in the valley one afternoon and thought let’s swallow the thorns
                        and be free.

At breakfast we are discussing toxic habits
and those who love them.
I fumble with my apology. You fasten
on what Moses said.
Words which could be my balm instead just
eat wind and die. It’s because I’m done
in by single silly details, isn’t it?—
Mortar on bricks,
sweat on downy hair, a watch
from old times?

We’re finally a word unwritten.

And a voice god never heard spoke
in a far away voice.

            You will feel our yesterdays one by one dragged
            over the heads of your sisters and mothers,
            strangled in darkness and in terror.

            Why were you not there to protect them?