the eastern congo 2005

***trigger warning***

war (the glorified love of blood and valour)

is nothing but a sharp metal object

that takes a living being

like a cat or a goat but preferably a woman

and slices the skin

hacks the limbs

and leaves a trail of disembodiment

strewn across a turquoise forest

it feeds the earth

and so it must be good for us

at one moment there are the whites of their eyes

then a scream that enunciates the craters of the moon

you take a blunt object

and you slam their head

into the grass

you saw into their neck

until all is left is bloody strings

the sawing is not clean and swift

it takes a while

back and forth like cutting a green branch

from the trunk

it is helpful if before you do this

to human beings

you do this to

mice and dogs and other filthy creatures

you see this is war

not a clean shot in the air

a flag that still there

but a heart that pumps blood

to lungs tossed into the fire

that smell of burning fingers

and knees and spinal cord

that smell is not like pig

or goat or the 7th stage of birth

it reminds you of nothing

that came before in your life

except maybe the ghosts

that haunted you when the imaginary was

more scary than the real

this is real

you are real

you drink another beer

or something stronger

or if you can get your hands on it

the herbs that grow in the forest

and feed on the blood that you feed

why do you do this?

because this smell this inhale

this fuck before the knife

this really real

this is god

who sacrificed his younger son for the older one

who feeds the forest with your blood

or someone else’s

this is a reason to pray

and this is what she does

before the fire

before the barefoot soldiers

before the trees reveal her steps

she prays

and who says a ghost

only haunts the living

the real ghosts haunt the dead

and the dying

and the half-living

and each other

like the night cleaves to the day