Operation Desert Freedom

“It’s kind of like bullying ants,” He said,

“You know, pouring Tabasco sauce on them

before squashing them.”  I didn’t know,

but fought not to judge him. I was a pauper

begging for his memories like the women

who begged by the road for food  as he rolled

with the rest of the convoy through their town. 

“Yeah, we did that,” he said, embarrassed

when I asked if he ever tried to get

the Muslim women to lift their veils,

to show their faces or legs for soldiers’ rations.

“You just don’t see them as people,” he said.

I listened, imagined what it must be like

for these women returning home with

the food.  Do they hide it from their neighbors?

Feed it to the children only at night

far away from disdainful, watching eyes

afraid of their husband’s wrath for speaking

to, begging from Americans? The soldier

wasn’t aware that one tear shown, bare

ankle could bring about eternal shame.

He didn’t think of the violent tradition

of those Shi’ah men who refuse to see

women as equal, how they also

bully them as ants, reigning fire hot fists

upon hidden faces pouring out prayers

Allison Taj is a Southern writer who currently resides in Wisconsin with her husband, various children (biological and otherwise), and pets.  She attends Spalding University’s MFA program and is a student editor for The Louisville Review.  Allison is also honored to guest edit other literary journals and magazines.