O fortuitous prince of jihad
to you we raise our vessels
assured the alchemy of blood to gold
will
transmogrify for generations to come

there’s no profits without
a prophet of death like you
to prime the pump for our taking

sure, we spawn others
like ISIS and al-Nusra, but
please know in the space where
most people have hearts
we have a special place carved
like initials
on the cold, dark center of our being

a center that will hold (we lied
to Yeats) while everything else

blows away

—William Skink