everyone carries his address in his pocket so that at least his body will reach home -Agha Shahid Ali there from once-claimed land buds a sudden country. unsurprising, as every tale is the tale of your country. a man tracing his lazy finger down a map, one hand perforating a body—pulling from it a country. which do you claim? where are you unseen among the people of this or that country? your father’s father watches from the walls, a man not unlike any partridge falling from its sky of no country. he fell silent and hateful, hastily married off to numb the rift with the peculiar heat of a woman’s country. & Moses parted—but only sea. this chasm light seeps through, this sunless path to a discarnate country. & your father’s mother? too young to tend a landless man with no space behind bone for her, only his lost country. blasphemous how one begets many. father, father, daughter. & your mother? miraculous origin—the one safe country. when they ask, Ghazal, if you anger, recite again: men turn from the wind for the anthem of a new country.