Poetry and Arts

Theater

I dropped down against the mosque wall
curled my shoulders in
let my feet fall apart
tilting toward the rubble-dusted floor
tried to still my lashes
as rifles came clanging in
their muzzles smelling out fever
heated off a pulse
I was playing dead
between the dead
a beast caught sight of my breath
blew off my face
he said:
“Now he’s fucking dead”