In this poem, I've tried to play with different tones without undercutting the seriousness of the subject.


ABU GHRAIB (A TRUE STORY)



After 24 hours
nonstop rap, you
could hear them
in their cells,
calling "Whatup,
whatup, whatup?"

We
finally got it right.
Top 40 country,
one hour & they're
howling "Mister!
Mister! No more!"

The blues, then,
for the ones we broke,
Arabic versions of "Help
the poor. Baby,
help poor me."





Poetry by Jefferson Carter
Read 400 times
Written on 2008-12-06 at 05:46

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