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Al jabr: Reunion of the Broken Parts
by Earl Coleman

Can caravans of naked captives more efficiently
Progress in tens? Slave traders argue over al gebra.
The coffle falters when a unit dies and halts
The flowing line that leads to where the profit waits,
The victim left for carrion, whose time has split
The atoms of its hourglass to let the sand escape.

Victims are not privy to the traders’ math.
They need reunion of the broken parts. They want
Their wives returned to them, their gold replaced
In oral cavities. They need a mathematics to evaluate
The retribution requisite, since zero has no passion
For revenge, not hate, nor purple rage, but only
Sullen rue, a voiceless acid of the veins.
Victims bare their numbers on their broken arms.

Germans argued over halves and quarters – could a drop
Contaminate a human entity? (But Germans argued
Over skin, both fore and aft,
For lampshades and gemütlichheit.)
Swiss bankers argue for conclusive
Proof and roots, include the factor
Of the time elapsed, the group identity,
And what to do with the remainder of the sum.

Museums argue to subtract the provenance
From raw possession, nakedly descending
Gilded staircases with Elgin marbles closely held
And deft Impressionists, their wingless victory.
Skinheads argue that not many
Really died, and Netanyahu argues that
Thirteen percent will place the State in jeopardy
While nine seems prudent, more than they deserve.

Oh who can craft a victims’ math
To splice the jagged edges of our broken parts?