Today, Yousef, I am not with Hamas
Nor with Fatah, Hezbollah, Taliban or Al Queda.
Don’t mistake me for a man of conscience

I try to picture myself as
the better man, one whose
heart never picks yesterday’s
pocket,

The Pawn is always a pawn, a sucker the dealer spots
a mile away, a collector of dreams with pockets full of holes.

Inside the frame, two angels stand alone,
point their gaze to the distance of mauve and blue,
attuned to something not yet revealed,
an impulse finding shape in the swirl of clouds.

Their season’s over
and now they’re drunk
and nasty, banging at
the screen.

He was my wife’s uncle,
married once,
diplomas from schools
most couldn’t get in to.