zhe will wake one morning or evening
it matters not, will rise one late afternoon
in the middle of a meal or at its end
the earth will have shaken, the walls collapsed
it matters not whether from missile strikes
or winds & waves or moving plates
roofs will turn to rubble, floors to dust
& nothingness, terror & numbness
will visit together, for the world
will have looked zhe full in the face
or the back of the head, it matters not
as zhe flees or stays to build again a life
from the ruins, the world will have looked at zhe
& said: you, your name is scapegoat, exile