A liar’s voyage,

this dichotomous insistence

a cartesian fetsishism

these equations do not add

still we line our sexton

to this false horizon

reckon our dead

we shackled mariners

unswayed by our inability to swim

raise sails to battered masts

praise in song our unworthy ships

while mad cartographers draw lines

mapping the desolate

spicing the desert with monsters

No one dares tell the captain he’s mad

when the sea closes overhead

fills lungs with brine

each of us has our turn at the wheel.

in the sunlight
a flash of fishing line
catches the eye
hanging,
snagged on a branch
maybe there are no fish
in the pond ringed by trees
set
amongst the headstones and memories
perhaps there never were
certainly he hasn’t caught one,
not yet
though he has spent many hours
set
amongst the headstones and memories
by the pond

ringed by trees

Home Recipe for Sharia Justice

In a small atoll
mix a smaller framed girl,
no older than fifteen
with distillate of fear
choose one lean,
sun baked
season with isolation,
truss the legs, the arms,
pin back the head,
carefully stuff a filthy rag in her mouth
stab repeatedly,
allow the shame to marinate,
penetrate the bone
separate from family
pull out
let soak for three years
whip until murdered