Stained Hands

Stained Hands

Twisted cartoon
in a pool of doubt,
young grunt soldiers
carried out,
from the Grand Vizier’s
private stables-
run if you are able,
eyes bleeding,
& souls beveled,
leveled up to the dust-
rust & photos
of freedom’s days,
the little ways, we lost,
serenity,
poor girl,
never saw it coming-
let us be-bop
to the cathedral,
we’ll try to remember when,
over gin & cards,
we laugh back to school days,
& pray for rain,
to wash,
Capote blood,
wash it all
from our
stained hands.

                     -Seti I Shadim

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