Pestilence and its Victims

   Sétif-

Auschwitz is now empty,                                            

A mob to the colon’s beat,

Natives with their tongues cut out,
Slog to the marketplace.

Toast to victories-
Not theirs, at least for now.
But veins shoot
Negating themselves of the superior monkey

A human chain
Accosted by muzzles,
The crowd glows–

Pierced skin,
Melted marrow,
Blood to Oil,

A child with broken cheeks,
Waiting,
For Summer to sigh.

Knitted, repressed
Dancing around the fire at night,
Parades line for servings of white phosphorous in open sight.

      Paris-

Cavernous walls
Ring of howls:
“Liberty, Égalité, Fraternity”

The streets,
Ejected of the plague,
Awash with the fervor
Which talks of Man incessantly,
While massacring him everywhere he is met. 

Cafes burn bright,
Dinner table chatter:
“Human shields, terrorists, civilization.”

Radio plays: Young men shipped off as fodder/15 percent sale on imported underwear.

At your door, the jingle rides
With a salesman’s smile
No more silent seas,
No more tuneless tides.

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