poetry sequence ghazal
The end of war
Mothers, there's no need to weep —
your boys bought us this victory.
Gone for years, the king’s been,
too clever, they said, for victory.
Sure, I’ve earned this medal:
I named my vehicle “Victory.”
I was fine, damn it,
till one kiss stole away that victory.
Memories, pangs, reflections —
the smallest scraps of victory…
Put those down and come in,
don’t y’all want a slice of victory?
In pairs they go to the mattresses,
sweating for victory.
As you pass, hold your breath,
that there is the smell of victory.
The grass grows thick here and here.
It was a very great victory.
Dude, that girl will do anything —
you’re covered with victory!
Pray to your saints, your household gods,
we shall kneel to victory.
He’s no Satan, not even close.
Two hands bright. With victory.
Her purse empty, her back bent,
still she can pluck at victory.