If they take us, where will we go? 

Will the libraries close before they 

burn or will we be forced to sit inside as the 

books curl into piles of ambrosial ash? And 

if the books are gone, will they then unplug the archives from the digital mainframes? I don’t know how it all works, but they probably do. Do they? Will my friends end up in the same facility 

or will we be split up on the basis of offense? 

So Guy will end up in the desert and Gabriela at the Bay? When they seize things, will they sell them? 

I read about the art in the 30s 

that was stolen so the German elites could 

hoard cultural capital—but only capital 

they thought pretty. Degenerate art like 

Monet, Manet, Degas, Van Gogh, all left 

to mildew in caves. Hidden in the dark 

so nobody had to encounter them. 

Had to. 

Could someone buy it all from abroad 

and then we could all buy it back in turn, once 

we’re older, once everything’s settled down? 

Will everything settle down? 

My brother 

needs to call. He was supposed to call 

yesterday. 

Who inherits the presidency? 

When they start taking our nieces, will we 

keep talking about Mahmoud? 

Will I still write? I think I would like 

writing poems on leaves, on scraps, but where 

would I keep them? I’ve never been good at 

hiding. Maybe I’ll write on the bare 

thighs of my friends, the words 

slippery and blue down each wiry hair. 

Am I meant to be writing now? And who is taking collection? Will we make it home? 

Who is We?