– Myronn Hardy –
When chaos ignites after a despot
is forced red there is a prediction
of freedom. A false simplicity
in town squares where flags
are raised waved fervently
by those deemed feeble.
Consider cities where flies
take to wounds. Where wounds
are lacquered cups overflowing
with tea bitter scalding.
Ahmed has taken to sea cold
as color brackish as quarry.
How stingrays swim with him in dark
water sliced suddenly with sun.
Relief the gun dropped
from hand water in his hand stings.
Relieved of history its
infinity plundered.
He is solitary in that water at least
from those who waged with him.
That morning farmers brought
pomegranates to market.
Men with red teeth weighed fruit
in containers kilo after kilo.
Red seeds blushed skins a task
to tear away but such taste.
The breaking in mouth sweet bursts.
The wonder of regime distant.
The distance of a star yet its
presence covers his face.
The blindness it creates dazzles.
Cones fray burst.
The fever he refuses to fight.