Poems

The Wolves

I hear the wolves
nice and snug in their country homes
staring gluttonously at their televisions
counting bodies out loud
howling at the top of their lungs
for hours on end
I see the wolves
without their sheep's clothing
stuff their faces with fresh game
elect their token Judas by show of hands
drink the blood of a village
that is still young, a little fruity
the blood of a land strewn with mass graves
for hours on end
I hear the wolves
switch the lights off at midnight
and lawfully rape their wives
 

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Comments (2)

Diptesh Augustine Sarkar

It is not an under-statement on Morocco but on the entire race of mankind.
“Lawfully rape their wives”....horribly beautiful, horribly true.

Roger Langen

This is as near to a political poem as I have been able to find so far in skimming Moroccan poets. Is the government being criticized? Traveling to Morocco in early November (Fez). Hoping to connect with Moroccan intellectual life.
Roger Langen, Toronto, Canada 

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