30/30(5)


My Syrian news service
Said you tried again, you tried
To take a candle
To a can of gasoline.

Which Spring is ours to grow?
And which is ours to death?
Damascene you had your horse
And the Sun burned around
The Earth. There were twelve
Pieces of skin, the roosters
Are left in soup.
And now, we leave you to burn
On the freeway.
When you went for the gasoline
You should have known
Our help wasn’t about freedom.
When you went for the gasoline
You should have known
That was ours to take.
There is no giving
Only an exchange,
A continuation always disguised
In epistolary deceits.