If my wish was true,
Gaza becomes a kite
anchored to mother
earth, over Palestine.

Well out of reach of
the evil ones and a
shadow cast on them
by the sunbirds wing.

But there is no cake,
or no candle to blow
out and no tooth fairy,
she already lost an eye.

We are innocent when
we dream, especially,
when our nightmares
have become diurnal.