I know there are mountains and eyeglasses
And wisdom. But I didn’t come to see the sky.
I’m here to see the clouded blood,
the blood that sweeps machines over waterfalls
and the soul toward the cobra’s tongue.
Bismillah, and the blade
will dissolve flesh. As he cups the sheep’s muzzle,
exposing its long, soft neck, for just a moment
I don’t believe in death.