My papers, pen, brush
My son, my wife
The neck grew longer,
Like a camel’s, a dinosaur’s.
A python coiling around
Death rattle on a bird’s nest
And the martyrs offered prayers to the chaste souls of martyrs.
And tears outpoured.
Lips dried up.
When the word’s stake broke
At the cross point of time and place,
When we lost the drive to fight our internal weaknesses,
He slaughtered his own brother.
Publication excerpt from Ibrahim El-Salahi. Prison Notebook, 1976. The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2018.