Classic Poem

The acacia is drooping
Rafah's gates are sealed by wax
and locked by curfew
The girl's job:
Carry bread and bandages
to a wounded fighter
who'd come home past midnight
She had to cross a street
watched by foreign eyes,
tracked by gunsights,
by the wayward wind.

The acacia tree is drooping,
the door of a house in Rafah
opens like a wound
She leaps into the courtyard's lap
A second leap:
a palm tree embraces her
on terror's pavement
Another leap:
a patrol
Another leap:
a flashlight
“Halt! Who goes there?”
Five guns
She stares wide-eyed
Fuve guns!

The acacia tree is snapped in two
In the morning
a court is held in session
for the criminal
For Fatimah
Child of eight!