All Our Syrian Boys Are Dying

Seeing you in a thousand boxes

me in a thousand beds

a thousand sparks crack

four thousand limbs inside

a thousand bone gloss-rooms

I see them bounce you off the sky

from ruins built

to honour it

a thousand head-first tears

down a thousand sandstone cheeks

I hear a thousand promises

to a thousand gods

a thousand bounties

on a thousand heads

cut from a thousand men

I hear a thousand cracks of hearts

a thousand pamphlets telling us

we are alone

I hear paper beats rock

but machete beats paper

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