P11

He held the tattoo on his dry cracking skin to his eye

He penned it on his

hand last night

after he said it to

himself undernearth

the harsh glow

of the fluorescent desk

lamp alone

in the room.

He denied knowing you,

three times:

“I don’t know

her I don’t

know her

I do not know her.”

He doesn’t understand

himself sometimes.

Doesn’t

Bin Laden see a

good man in the

mirror?

Ambiguously

colored eyes that

can’t be sorry.

--That’s guilt.