by Peter Byrne
Poetry
[ed. This is a follow-up to Peter Byrne's Death of the "Fat Bastard"]
(Swans - August 29, 2011)
All weep for Baha Mousa
His wife was dead at twenty-two
Weep for Baha Mousa
His two boys couldn't see why
Easy to weep for Baha Mousa
Weep then weep for Baha Mousa
His face above the hotel desk
Sadder, sadder than the clock's
Who wouldn't weep for Baha Mousa?
His twenty-sixth and final year
Then came the soldiers of the Queen
Knees pumping anger and command
You had better weep for Baha Mousa
His head thrice hooded
Smeared with blood
Weep then weep for Baha Mousa
Crumpled by the wall
So hurry weep for Baha Mousa
The Queen's men struck
They raised a boot
Too late to weep for Baha Mousa
Warm but dead on the Queen's floor
Who wouldn't marvel at the count?
Ninety-three holes in Baha Mousa
Now weep him out of my head
Weep Baha Mousa out of my head
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About the Author
Peter Byrne on Swans -- with bio. (back)