It’s over two hundred miles
from Amman, Jordan
to the Iraqi border,
The burning red sunlight
smacks you right in the face
as you travel the entire way,
It would be rather egotistical of me
to think I even mattered,
we all know timing is everything,
when you're dead things stay the same,
To the left and right of a photograph of Kafka
I have taped to the mirror in my room
I’ve placed a fish.
Because Kafka loved fish and would never
eat them.
Now I stop writing poems
you can throw your gold ring in the sea
where it will rest beside a skull in the sand
and all the sunken ships will rise from the foam
with the captain breathing
and the sailors grinning