Otherness
The world clutches our neck
squeezes and shakes
Do we have souls to bulge in our veins?
Eyes pop out
Blue sky —
fumes and metal
Limbs go limp
Do we have a fist or a stone
or a march home
dripping out of the ligaments?
Mouths prodded open
tongues pulled
Do we have menacing words
throbbing in our throats?
Are these teeth for chewing?
Or threatening bites are lurking
in the incisors?
What DNA looms in those marrows?
We shed our skin to make room for a wiggle
We vomit our organs to slim and slip
through any groove
But there is none
The world’s fist grips tighter
and breathing gives up on us
How many layers of burned flesh
we must parade to prove we are made of one
How many brains from blown-up heads
we have to gather to show we have one
How many broken bones we should plaster together
to chronicle the rattle of our skeletons
How many names we’ll have to read
off children’s calves
to return their pieces
to their mothers
That we are equally human
the burden of proof is always on us
Everyone is equal — in Orwell’s words —
but some are more equal than others
The world is the world
and us —
the others
