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 4. when, then It was and then it wasn’t. An hour ago. Two days before. That split second boarding the bus. (It was just before 8 a.m.) He looked like a terrorist in his red bulgy shirt when he didn’t pay. Then he wasn’t. Just an exploding belt of ball bearings. Three women in frocks sitting there with their heads blown off. Why intrudes. They want to see us dead. Now now now. Not now. Before you came. Before you were born. (Or he. Laughing with the Boss at the cash machine before they crashed the plane tomorrow.) Mother at wounded boy’s bedside while father’s home rejoicing when he hears his son was the bomber. This when ensnares where. Beit Safafa refugee camp. Afterwards. The next day. A year later in Lower Manhattan (Towers burned, legs crushed) she is still in hospital. And you, over morning tea mourning the morning of the day before. They want to kill us in the when of every where. Cry of why. For Ishmael’s cold tears? For the when of who was there first? For Isaac’s hoarse laugh? And for what kind of God? ...

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