sundown america, one-six-twenty.
two-eleven morning tehran, where
the clutter flutters, shaking down
avenues of the blood oath.

vengeance! the echoes cry
voices of thousands
ricochet stone wall to stone wall,
sleepless to sleepless, dust to dust.

their general is dead.
ours is mad.
eyes wild, master of all
self images on multiple screens.

genius! the compliment flies
inner voice of one
ricochets lobe to lobe
sleepless to sleepless, dust to dust.

eyes of millions see
– perhaps to die –
sons of a something, both,
dead bodies, dead minds, dead souls.

© 2020 Martin C. Fredricks IV
Photos by AFP

Photo of mourners in Theran, Iran, 1-6-20, AFP/Atta Kenare

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