Psalms of Violence

I remember a masjid giving us names.
We were eating the sky to hide grief
below the places in our skin. Father had already bought an Izzar at home,
to cover violence to ourselves. And I know
love starts from hiding between cities. God dissolves in my mouth every morning,
as I watch a gay man begs to wear my name
with fear at the beginning of his voice. There’s a fire eating his freedom,
it sits with him to burn. Amen!
And I remember him drowning today
inside your body
somewhere I cannot name, I watch him become soft,
gave himself away to the tongue of fire.
On slow evenings, I read about them, men without names.
And I read about scripture; “For God so loved the world that he drowned everyone in It.”
This is how violent men drown
inside queers to meet other men splitting into refugees,
because of them, and because of home.