free palestine

february / march 2024 poem for aaron bushnell

I don’t need a gun
I need the dark thick pit
curling around my stomach
to bloom into sweet lilies

I don’t need a gun
I need the stitches you’ve sewn
across your eyes to melt
under the heat of children’s blood

I don’t need a gun
I need the weeping
the wet hollowed wailing
to stop

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