The Red Sultan

Spring came this year

with blood

Columbine bloomed the same.

crimson like a slashed throat,

scarlet like my heart.

Like some secret hidden

under your abaya

I crept in.

Do not mind my sting.

*

Immolation, martyrs

A fruit vendor set the spark

Israfel weeps for the damned.

Jibreel blew his horn, you know

That goddamn trumpet I can’t stand

just as the first bullet flew

and Egypt’s first victim fell.

I descended with the flies,

hauling corpses

of my people,

my people!

Egypt, Arabia, Syria, Iraq

They have forgotten me.

*

Yes, I saw her blue bra

I saw her stripped and beaten.

No, that is not what I wanted for my blood

I ride the women in zar and dance them into oblivion

they are my little Brides

My zayran reign over their wombs

but even jinn of the blood cannot control a woman

The men are fools. You cannot bind her

no matter how many genitals you cut off,

how many you stone to death.

I haul corpses stripped of ears, plucked eyeless

beaten black and blue.

Who is the victim of who?

There is no honor in death.

*

We malakhim, we watch

Mikhail frets as ever

Jibreel weeps and weeps

our Word is corrupted and rots.

I ride my pale horse

I bring in the dead.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s