Let Him Rest

in the surrender of spring to breathless

           summer    in the glottal stops

only a field can summon  in the possibility

           of syntax  in a tense

of  laughter  against the folds

           of a wing    against the heaven

 

of arms  against the drone

           of my imagination or any

pastoral of despite   despite

           what money made

of His body   despite what became

           of His uncle’s gun    despite

the felled mechanics of

           iron    despite sound    the shape of it

He left behind    despite the فرمية & amarkan

           & every back sung ييييييييييي

that failed to kill Him first

           may He rest in that I need not

be held    like I needed

           to be held    in my collapse

of lungs & midnight floods     infant

           I was in that drowning     & after

surviving  when the rumble

           of my shoulder against a bus window

becomes the safety of a chest

           I once could not sleep without

let it become my final wish before

           it becomes a whisper

at His deathbed  let Him rest

           let Him     forgive me

I won’t keep Him

           much longer     rest now

do not let His throat close

           into a lightless moon  as it did

in life  if  our breaths converged once

entanglement?  I ask the machine  breathing

           into my throat each night  holding me

like a father I can only see in the borders

           of daylight   He rises & I rise

with Him  He’s resting now  He’s resting

           in that rising      forgive me    I’ll let myself

sleep now    every night

           He rises & I wait    He rises &

                             I am waiting    ya Baba

                    I am waiting

                             for the fall