it’s afternoon// hot // hot like an imagined hell/

i roll under a table/ and there i make up countless dreams―/

birds unrolling from my corner/ full stop//there’s blood alert on my phone’s

screen/ there’s blood sinking into the ground somewhere/ they say

there’s a war/ a burning place/ Borno/ and a small boy/ i read from the alert/

carries a gun heavier than his body/ and a small girl/ i read from the alert/

carries crushed berries around her thighs/― mistakes/ mistakes

that amount to too many holes/ and the sky turns into masked clouds//

i think of how we use our hands/ and unfurl fire/ and smokes/

and nobody/ i mean/ nobody says a thing/ just retweets for traffic/ and

i wonder what the number of retweets/ can resolve/ while death avalanche/

while people are bathed in dusts/ and their houses are shelled down/

―this is not what prayers can undo/ this is not what running can solve/

does God blames us/ though we are made in his image?/

how our cruelty begets his cruelty?//

the rivers wail with the disturbed night:/ voices from brothers and sisters/

who should have been here/ sharing bread/ and wine/ on a round table/