In The West

A poem by Jess Semaan

In the west, where the sun sets I hold my breath and wait

For the people of the west to tell me which bodies are for waste and which bodies are worth a wake

In the west, I learn compartmentalization and other complicated terms.

I unlearn my body as home.

In the west where the sun does not rise, you can smell blood on hands and pumpkin spice on breath

In the west, you say: _____ died

You do not say: _____ got killed

You do not ask: who killed _____

In the west, sophisticated weapons breed in labs, a portion of the profits donated to museums of stolen arts

In the West, Arabs are muslims and muslims are Arabs

In the west where the sun sets, you will learn hypocrisy from masters

Lying is a sport, and football is soccer

In the west where the sun sets, is stolen land, a very sad place with many ways to numb

The formula.

Escape shrapnels

Come to America

Die slow

Watch a war

From afar

Buy decoration

Die slow

Repeat after me

I am in a land of the free