by Hazem Fahmy
Walk briskly, child.
They know your name,
now.
They will stab it
in the dark, but also
in the light,
when you’re looking.
Your bulging eyes
sapphires
of the Mediterranean,
displaced across a screen
for their digestion.
Once, I was a prince,
regal but mistaken
for a beggar.
Their cameras nurtured
me, and I was grateful
to be seen,
but I’ve watched how
quickly they unsee, and it
is a gruesome sight.
Smile big.
Smile wide.
Show them the fangs
of your history, and they will
remember.