falling (for Lamea Hassan)

I
Spring came in enamored with Death
holding hands shyly slyly
falling in lust.
Uncountable plum blossoms
falling
buildings and bones crushed
petals underfoot
bleeding on car mats.
Buds nipped in late frost
nipped in the bud
all fruit denied.

In the hareem a fig is sliced open,
teeth scraping seeds & flesh from skin.

Your side of the bed was empty
when I woke from dreams of empty beds,
of a mat where the babies slept
near their papa’s room, and
an empty space on the crowded shelf
where the pin-striped suit was folded
before he put it on to look more American
as he drove his daughters and sons,
their wives and husbands,
their daughters and sons
to safety
where there was none
where there is none.

Heads will roll I screamed
when they hear of this
know of this
heads will roll

II
Tears falling
onto old skin
skin of the fathers
new skin of the children
with shiny new toys
falling
and falling
to bleed on the car mats
to drift into compost
to curl up & dry
scattered in Spring winds
chicharrones salted by high desert sand.
She screamed
she saw their heads falling
tiny heads falling
and falling beside them
kissed
their dear precious heads
where they fell

heads will roll
heads will roll
when they you we hear of this
I promise.
I promise
heads will roll

III
No one tells us
that we die falling,
or if they do we don’t listen.
If we heard them
if we knew all these things
we might just refuse to be born.

Uncountable plum blossoms
drift into compost
fresh young bud
old dry bud
middle-aged bud tough & chewy
buds ablaze and falling
falling
falling from these bloody skies

Slit a thin green stem lengthwise
roll back the bark
& search for marrow where there is none.
There may be water
where there was none
where there was some
just unexpected.
Run your dry tongue
along the groove
& it will be enough.

I promise