A Bird from the Battlefront

<p>This evening<br>No one looks like me.<br>I put my heart into the fridge<br>My eyes into the shoe closet.<br>I left my fingers yonder on the door handle.<br>This evening<br>No one looks like me<br>I set on the edge of my silence<br>Chew what is left of the news<br>Ask the lady announcer to become sexier<br>When numbering today’s victims;<br>Her excitement is a surplus femininity<br>Messing with the awe of death.<br>This evening<br>No one looks like me.<br>And the knife slitting my neck from behind<br>Feels as soft as the collar of my shirt.<br>One<br>Single<br>Unique<br>Solo<br>I am this evening<br>And no one looks like me<br>Except<br>The twenty-three million Syrians<br>Who write this same poem<br>Even now.</p>