for Dzhokhar Tsarnaev
In the silent well of courtroom 9 a clerk
reads out the letters
These were deliberate choices
These were political acts
The scene was like a field
of slaughtered birds not birds
After the field, they say, you bought half a gallon of milk
Jahar, let’s talk about the boat
Let’s talk about the petrol
and your hands ~
Let’s talk about your brother and the letters
of your name
say D
zh
kh, little v ~
You wear bear fur for a cape
to cover your shimmer-eyed hands,
your hands, when you hold them up, are
brimming with lice
Every living thing once was rock, Jahar
In blood, the minerals of the rock
You walk out under the light tubes, the greasy
glass you say nothing
Sometimes people stop talking that doesn’t
mean we didn’t love them
Do we feel better now… Next year
will not be better, Jahar
This country is going to try to kill us all, Jahar
~ ( boy of mineral, who was lying in a boat )
No— I can’t explain my own devastation
Can you describe it?
Jahar— I can.
