To Sarajevo!

Sarajevo, stack your hills. Crowd the roofs. Pin dusk between Trebević, Igman. Trams grind Ferhadija. Sparks jump wire. Pigeons burst Baščaršija; scatter, wheel, drop. Hammer copper. Dent it. Turn it gold. Pack coffee dark in the džezva. Boil. Pour. Bite sugar. Burn tongue. Split somun. Tear meat. Salt onion. Smoke climbs, catches coat, hair, stone. Miljacka cuts brown through the city. Bridges stitch. Feet cross. Cross back. Rain strikes Latin Bridge, slicks the rail, runs black beneath somebody's hand. Then noon—- bell. adhan. bell. Windows shake out sheets. A boy boots a ball against brick. Misses. Swears. Chases it downhill. Mortar struck here. Here. Here. Red resin plugs the pavement. Rain fills each Sarajevo Rose, spills it, fills it again. Still the tram brakes. Doors clap. Women shove in. Someone laughs too loud. Someone drops three coins. Kneels. Scrapes. Finds two. Leaves one shining by the track. Sarajevo, heap snow on the roofs. Blacken it at the curb. Grill meat. Ring bells. Call prayer. Scar stone. Patch plaster. Pack the tram until shoulders touch. Climb your hills. Smoke. Spit. Spark. Stay.