How do I plead?
Guilty.
Today I committed treason.

My eyelids separated before the birds
could disturb the tranquility of the dark
right after the morning stars
stood bright and firm.

I took my gun
a BIC well-oiled with blue ink
and my dog eared notebook
and boom!
I killed you Mr. President
emptying seven bullets into you

Why seven bullets?

Because seven is the number
of completeness and rhymes well
with your name Mr. President.

The first bullet went through your lips
it’s a souvenir for telling us on
the sacred front steps of the
House of Baboons on 26-01-1986
that the change you brought was fundamental
That’s the fundamental change
We have received these decades.

The second bullet blinded your eyes,
my aim was true,
now you ooze blindness
of course you can’t tell
for you have always been blind
you see nothing
not the misery of the citizens
nor the corruption of your underdogs and family
who have bled this country dry in your name
there’s No Change in that.

The third bullet shredded your hands
those hands that sold my countrymen
signing endless backroom treaties with
foreign leeches shackling
our unborn babes with foreign debt
For the record,
I shredded both hands
ensuring that the bone was crushed to debris
just as the economy of my nation is
rubble is all that remains.

The fourth bullet was meant
to decapitate your legs
Then I remembered how
you turned this nation into food
for your friends family and in-laws
serving us on a salad platter
garnished to whet your appetites
then feeding on us like men
drinking up local brew in an earthern-pot
while lewd jokes bounce off their cheeks
your appetites never waning even
when all that remained were dregs.

So, the fourth bullet sunk into
the folds of your stomach.

I did not want you to spill
what the folds held inside
so I allowed the fifth bullet
to seal up the breach.
It was the bullet of grace
that held your stench inside.

The sixth bullet swept your feet away
ripping tendons
I watched you struggle to crawl away
yelping like a frightened puppy
reminded me of how as youth
you watched us crawl through unemployment
to slavery in the middle East.

It should have been enough to see you thus
but the colour of the earth upon which I stood
was the colour of my kinsmen blood
you have slaughtered for your sport
So the seventh bullet
the bullet of completion
trajectiled into your heart
perfecting your death.

How do I plead?
Guilty, Your Justice
for today I killed Mr. President
with seven bullets.

***

Link to the Italian translation