When the brothers K. are in
a knife fight in
their own house, we
tend to stay away.
But what if
their struggles spills,
knocking over A. lamp?
A jinn smoke signals the sky,
and a fire catches, spills.
These are row houses, built
side-by-side with adjacent thin walls
and a shared inner courtyard.
Are we ready to douse
the flames? Can we risk
the community?
In the end, we bury
chard remains, blacken flesh
because the only thing left
will be chipped bone,
and broken blade.
We bandage
an orphaned Daughter,
and steady the vacant stare
of a wobbly Son.
There is nothing we can do
for the Brothers k. It's too late
to separate them now.
Maybe if we give them guns,
the killing suicide will be faster
this thing over easier,
and the Community
razed sooner.
No. I don't need Mom's
accusatory glances, nor
Father's displaced fury.
I am morally bankrupted
and save only the house
because the family is messy,
and cheap like all families.