Syria

June 16, 2011

A blush of sun sinks to horizon.
Veil of smoke, gently glows.
He talks to a lense
straight to camera:

‘If you had a daughter they took her
if you had a house they burnt it down.’

And screen after screen
is glittering through my living room,
a rose scarf wrapped
around her head.

His eyes are pink
as he talks about his daughter,
his sister, his wife,
his neighbour, his friend.

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