At last, when here turned out to be there,
The one who translated yesterday's words
Into unusual utterances wondered
At the vapidity of numbers, when who
Controlled the numbers controlled the wars.
An owner in one context was ever a robber
In another, dying rebel warrior in a third.
Identity and quantity were dangerous
Demons and gods from the start. Pray
They stand a little apart from each other
When they stand on either side of you.
How did those twin pillars of smoke and fire,
Those djinns entwine in the air above
The desert of yesterday at nightfall, when
Countable stars in a measurable sky
Came out to decide if there were ever body
Or self to save, ever puppet or soul, owner
Or liar, if ever there were one here, in here?
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