A Fractured Ghazal for Al-Sharif by John Mackie

I am not a silent poet

in the emergency medicine
chronic assessment unit I lie

hooked up to oxygen, drip
and monitors, self pitying sigh

oh my pain but I am safe
nobody here will just let me die

in this video clip, al-Sharif, down,
prone, moves, flickers an eye

then a medic from the IDF
shoots him in the head. no alibi

in the ironic shadow of an ambulance
beneath an Israeli settler sky

d’you see how the ribbons of blood
thicken with the dust of a street that dry?

guttural shouts come from a cloud
of indifference, soldiers, drivers, passers by

a message in a text wishing me peace
I knew her violent, drunkenly high

peace? as two thousand miles away
the brain drips out of that murdered guy

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