Thursday, November 13, 2014

Survival Rate by Fady Joudah

Survival Rate

When at customs I don’t declare
what I brought into my country
from that other minor country

when in legacy mode
my teeth have grown too yellow
the surprise-hug of a carnivorous flower

I exploit the marasmic like photons
seen from a city under a full moon
Congo red

and get away with our
decolonized gut flora miasmatic
melismatic tempura time

A joke for a body moored to dislocation
when all the mouth can do is say
That’s-pretty-funny

Your eyes grabbed mine by the elbows
our fourth and sixth cranial nerves intact
after you’d pitched your face

in my shoulder for me to wander
your cheek and chin
and rose cemetery

This is variance in clinical features
of bombs strapped to the waist
We all have them

Red blood cells ants
released to circulate the body
until they die
  


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