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



       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.