A hollow space for broken bones

Abdulkareem Abdulkareem

The bullets / sneaked through the dark /
& buried themselves / into the succulent graves/
on our bodies / because we had voiced too much /
because we pulled / our painful innards /
for the father to see /

the father / swallowed his own sons /
& broke the incisor / of his wives /

home became a gag / to our mouths / &
a stick stuffed / in our throats/ home became
a pestle punishing / the buried earthenware
of our bodies /

Our eyeballs / morphed / into a video recorder /
through a year / that razed down a pole /
on every house/ gathering something /
for our mouths to say / to the forthcomings/

mother buried her tongue into my sister’s ear /
not to stroll / through the darkness / with four legs /
& not saunter / through luminance with two legs /
so her sacredness won’t shatter /

my skin awakes a dirge / on the lips of the world /
& It melts into a photograph / of dead boys /

hands up, don’t shoot / I ain’t got no gun / or how would
I harm you / when I can’t breathe? / I was once sold down
the river / in Mississippi / on a different bone / my skin
is a user / of broken things / according to a bloke / on Twitter /