-1-

Last night I was writing an ode to figs

When bombs filled the skies and turned blue to gray,

Light to darkness, and laughs to cries.

I put the figs aside, and contemplated bombs.

Maybe if I sing them an ode, they will stop killing us?

-2-

I can never tell the difference between convex and concave.

Nor between midriasis and miosis.

I keep reminding myself of the difference, drawing them on the backs of books

And agendas

But it never works.

However,

I know the difference between genocide and war:

War is between two sides fighting until one surrenders,

And genocide is when one side tries to exterminate a whole innocent group.

Now it’s your turn.

-3-

The taxi driver thought about his father’s tobacco box

As the passenger in the backseat squeezed more bags filled with his children’s body limbs.

His wife handed him another white bag filled with body limbs and lumps,

And pointed to him to be careful on the road—the kids are young.

-4- 

Yesterday was el día de todos los santos.

This same day, Gaza 

Lost so many saints in the shape of children

Pulled from underneath the rubble:

Their limbs flaccid and their faces dusty.

Dead children are organized in mass graves horizontally and sometimes vertically—

They just had a growth sprout and became taller than their mothers.

Years later, when we light candles in el día de los muertos for Gaza’s genocide,

How will they leave the ground to join us for the day?

Aren’t they crammed there?

Will they stand in line, waiting to leave

Just like they waited in life at Rafah checkpoint?