We are the Iraqis
The American soldiers in the helicopter throw leaflets with inked arms onto our sleeping women on the rooftops
We are the Iraqis
Daily at breakfast our mothers dish up sectarianism, we chew it until we consume our mouths
We are the Iraqis
We make iron doors for our houses so we rust behind them
We are the Iraqis
We fire when one of us dies until we kill the other
We are the Iraqis
We fight with the roosters and wipe away our blood
We are the Iraqis
At the checkpoints military dogs rub their noses against our eyes
We are the Iraqis
We plant graves in front of houses
We are the Iraqis
We tumble around the food-aid truck like a string of prayer-beads snapped at a wake
We are the Iraqis
The little coffin unites our shoulders
We are the Iraqis
The same fingers that we collected shot-casings with as children
now count the dead
We are the Iraqis
We don’t bring down the dried heads from park railings
We are the Iraqis
With this soap we wash our hands to eat
and with this same soap we wash our hands of blood
We are the Iraqis
We uproot our rotten years every day
stacked in rows in a mass grave
We are the Iraqis
In the summer we wait for buses under cast concrete like washed shoes
We are the Iraqis
We use weapons as pillows and blanket ourselves in Semtex
We are the Iraqis
A sleeping worm in the apple of the world