Artist: Ahmad Adawy, Flyers for Falastin

Today I dream of my toilet.
I know you don’t give a shit.
I don’t give a shit either
and have not for almost a week.
Now we are equal.

No, you’re right, we are unequal.
I usually wash.
You’re a master at wiping.
I don’t know what I was thinking.

I just miss my regular bowel movement,
the bathroom, water, and my existence
that you cannot fully wipe clean.

Today I fantasize
about dancing with vegetables
and kissing a piece of meat.
An explosion steals them from me.
I swear I wasn’t asleep.

I am starving, that’s all.
I know, I know, it’s not your fault.
It’s “Khummus!” fault, as always.
Our chickpeas DNA insists on resisting
even after 1948.

Today, I want to thank you
for bombing the next tent, not mine.
You left me with another day of hunger.
How merciful!

I want to extend my hand for your peace,
but it is busy scratching down under.
No disgrace, but all my gut has now
are hungry voices, constipation,
and hemorrhoids.