Double-Edged Moroccan Knife
Poem by Or Mor-Yosef
Variation on John Murillo
Not brick in hand. Not olive green. Not red barrette. Not icy steel. Not metal slung across your back. Not axe to sever fruit. Names once taken will not be given back with whips but with words. Set arms aside. Bullets to ammo box. Knives to sheath. We had our Panthers. But we cannot war with fellow countrymen. Poems are teeth enough.
