babajoon
it is now
Thursday
in the revolution

lift me high
so I can see
the
brave
curve
of the circle

and ask of it

will there be
a Friday
in the revolution

will we spring
from
the womb
of
death

laughing

like
Zoroaster

will we
ink
the pages
before us

and be allowed
to live
out
our
own
mistakes

or will this Thursday

stretch out
forever

I know
better
than
to call
upon you
for answers

dear circle
dear wheel
dear universe

maybe
you
are even
more helpless
than
we

No, you say
come be
the orbit

come
flail
in
defiant
flight

bend

become
unbroken

in
the
metamorphosis
we
carry
Al-Lat
Al-‘Uzzá
and Manāt
in
our song

we
hold
the hand
of many
Fridays

we
hold
death's stare
for

twenty

long

minutes

and we maintain
that we don't want
what you have

we want
what
no one has

so

we
resist
the thought
of apocalypse

we
hope
without
need for
redemption

we are the
becoming people

we
whom no one owns

are the
embrace of
non-estrangement.