another poem by Iraqi poet Fadhil al-Azzawi, from his selected poems Miracle Maker, published by BOA editions., translated by Khaled Mattawa. Actually, this is one section of a longer poem called "Elegy for the living"
I send you back your bombs
in boxes wrapped in gift paper
with my signature on them.
I send you back
the severed hands of Iraqi children,
and the corpses of soldiers buried in the sand,
and the black eyes of girls who have just come back
from a picnic.
America take your bombs,
and do whatever you want with your smart missles.
Hunt whales with them,
or blow them up in your rear end if you wish,
in front of your television cameras
where capitalism sits
in her old carriage
greeting the crowds lining the streets
on her way to hell.