(( Blood Crime pieces ))

Wine glasses,

on the officers desk

the imprinted a plan

twisted with

shapes of circles and angles

smoke up to the ceiling

the chairs keeping the ranks clothes hang

on skin of the floor,

open the windows of commands room

dead bodies of soldiersِ

have fallen in a corner

?why don’t you respect the real victors

Cool down,

Only the wings of some flies

Wipe away the dust

Of your bodies.

((** Poet: Seyed Morteza Hamidzadeh **))