hit us, hit us, O Habib
O Ministry of the Interior
remember [ “the beloved’s fist is sweeter than raisins” ]
your brutal blows become dates and [  ] shared among us
[ in our hatred rendition shrapnel ]
all the weight of this century is in
the desperate theatre of your camels
what we have is sheet metal and helmets
thousands of honeyed locusts
[ made of streetlights and burning chassis ]
and everything we can upload before dawn
you can shatter our skulls
with armored cars but we
[ will be back to hold the ]
sniper rooftops drink fresh
water and “mark out the word
‘Mubarak’ at the metrostations
and replace it with ‘marytrs’ ” #MonaSeif
for 18 days this square was
a skull [ one eye out for the revolution ]
and we were [ the turning
globe] inside it


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