Palestinian Boy

Hear the sound of ringing freedom
descend. Hear it crash. Feel it burp
as it swallows the world around
you. Feel the tremble of the earth
meet with your own shaking
at the knees, or the ankles.
See the droppings of metallic birds
that stain your clothes with blood.
Taste the phosphorus, and be relieved
it coats the smell of your dead mother.
Stop and taste the hot bullet
you run from. Your heart beating
so hard, each time you think
you’ve been shot. So it beats harder,
louder. And you think you’re feeling
pain, clutching at your chest
ripping through your clothes.
You find a lack of flesh–
an emptiness, but there is no wound.

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