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  • To Guide in Agadir
  • Myronn Hardy (bio)

We are surrounded. Stopped by a crowd  prayer mats slung over shoulders. There is conversation  the beaches  the weekend market for lemons  milk.

A crippled man has fallen. Is pulled up by men in jellabas  younger. Their mats tossed to gravel  to that side of road avoided.

A ruler refuses renouncement even though bombs crater. We understand delusion in secret  in cold rooms where storm-petrels are audible. The morning  a sliced pear  bread where honey forms a web.

This is how we live. Blasts in chests without visibility. A village where sheep lick shepherds to nasturtiums.

Who guides whom to slaughter? [End Page 239]

Myronn Hardy

Myronn Hardy is author of three collections of poems: Approaching the Center, The Headless Saints, and Catastrophic Bliss, winner of the Griot-Stadler Prize for Poetry. He divides his time between Morocco and New York City.



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