on the day
Al-Mutanabbi
street was bombed
did you notice
how quickly the open sky
folded in upon itself
the flaking burnt pages
like torn moth wings
flying up the fetid smoke
then drifting
down
the broken teacups
and coffee stained saucers
the splintered chairs
empty shoe
splattered blood
and
just before
that moment
did you hear the
euphony of the street
as men wrangled
and summoned
swore and cajoled
addressed
if not solved
defined
if not created
the problems
and the promise
of their country's
tomorrow
did you even know
of the dreams imploded
inside the molten iron
across the narrow
book lined street
as debate turned
to barbed screeches
philosophy
into choked smoke
and a thousand
years of history
was buried in the rubble
or was there
nothing
except an inexorable
deadly silence