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Wife of a War Criminal

Glass shards crushed on cement
Is your arm, gracias perritos
Hand gushing your arm, blooding spewing,
Running downhill, holding tight the weeping oranges,
Until they took away our house cat,
That’s when you peeled the oranges
Three months ago I cried into your shirt,
The same night the hospital became locked again,
Like a Silent Hill mission, I don’t know
Harsh heat during a harsh summer, that I know
Feeling like past poets
They yearned for and put curses on power,
Before they wrote about lovers,
Now I look forward to the day we meet the White Buddha
I said I wanted to buy the pot of flowers,
But you said I couldn’t bring it home,
Now look at our home
But that was years ago,
Now flowers are tools of destruction
I’ll name my son in numbers,
Not like how you will name yours, I assume
The adrenaline brought by war,
Spun me right round, baby right round,
That’s why I went up the horse, and left,
Crying, very dramatic, behind you, also crying
That’s before I watched Cinema Paradiso,
I cried watching a supercut of dead people kissing,
Can you believe?
Our time is not a time for love
Times like this I feel real when I’m holding a plastic bag,
Shopping for groceries, feeling the bag’s weight,
Listening to voicemails about masturbation,
Not something to think about during war, I know
I’ve always felt weird writing in English,
But some things are better said not in my mother tongue,
That you and they understand too well
Anyway, when you come home again,
I’ll prepare two pairs of denim jeans,
Nothing too strange,
Nothing like the death of a very handsome man,
Due to the Plaque, not the war

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