in jerusalem, next year

my girlfriend introduces me to the mountain goats. my friend

in the american southeast tells me about the permanent limp
his father gave him. the prime minister of new zealand smiles
as her nineteen-year-old interviewer asks her what she’s
been listening to. my father throws his weight against my bedroom
door. the prime minister of new zealand says she doesn’t have time
to listen to the radio. i brace myself for impact. my friend tells me
he’s a bad son. i listen to the sunset tree on my first day of
homelessness. the prime minister of new zealand says she’s
been listening to the mountain goats lately. dozens of palestinian

children do not make it through this year. the new zealand elections
draw near. my mother raises her voice, then thinks better of it and
lowers it to a dangerous whisper. my friend tells me he gets angry
and his father gets angry back. the prime minister of new zealand
brought us through a pandemic. my parents find out about my
girlfriend and kick me out of home. the pandemic is apparently
over and the misogynist conspiracists are out in full force. jeff and
cyrus decide not to name their band the hospital bombers because

the israeli defence force gets there first. my friend tells me it’s his
fault. biden sends weapons to israel. i brace myself for impact. the
prime minister of new zealand doesn’t keep any of her promises
to the poor or queer. i break free on a wednesday morning. my
girlfriend and i find a rotting house to rent. i don’t understand why
everybody likes this year so much except i do. my mother raises
her knife. the next prime minister of new zealand declares his

support for israel. my friend tells me next year in jerusalem, every
interminable year. the war goes on. my mother tears through my
room looking for corruption she can burn. the prime minister of new
zealand plays this year on her phone, tinny on the news video. biden
sends more weapons to israel. the new zealand elections draw
near. ten months into testosterone, my mother asks me what i’ve

done to my voice. i brace myself for impact. the prime minister of
new zealand says that i’m gonna make it through this year if it
kills me is how she’s been feeling about the election. my broken
house is behind me but good things are still a while away. my friend
tells me asking his father to accept his transition was big enough.

hundreds of palestinian children do not make it through this year.
the prime minister of new zealand retires because she’s sick of
the cavalcade of anger and fear. my father throws the invitation
to my wedding in the fireplace. new zealand trains with the israeli

military. john darnielle says this song is about how your stepfather
is abusing your mother and you and the crowd laughs and cheers.
thousands of palestinian children do not make it through this year.

the american elections draw near. the prime minister of new zealand
retires and the far right fills the vacuum.
                                                                     i brace myself for impact.