New poem by John Curl

American Qatar

(for Mohamed Ibn Al Ajami)

By John Curl

 

I will leave my cares behind

and fly on a magic tapestry

to lush desert Qatar,

a land of sun-baked fantasy

where dark-eyed houris,

in voluptuous perfection,

lounge in open tents

by camel race tracks.

 

I will circle the seemingly barren countryside,

once the poorest of Gulf states,

noted mainly for pearl diving

and long-horned, leaping oryx antelopes,

until I reach Al Udeid Air Base,

US Central Command’s Forward Headquarters,

regional Combined Air and Space Operations Center,

responsible for all US military actions

in the Middle East, North Africa, and Central Asia,

including Afghanistan, Iraq, and Iran,

then tour the vast oil and gas fields,

15 billion barrels and 800 trillion cubic feet,

which brought to the Al Thani family fabulous wealth,

and to the working population,

95 percent foreign workers,

involuntary servitude, bonded labor,

vicious conditions,

restrictions on movement,

arbitrary detention,

physical, mental, and sexual abuse.

 

I will relax on the peninsula shore

with Emir Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani,

absolute and hereditary monarch,

and his lovely wives, siblings,

nephews and cousins,

sipping cardamom-spiced coffee

from thimble-like cups,

while the sheikh’s daughters feed me

rose water and pistachio pudding,

a hundred variety of dates,

then dine on a whole lamb roasted on a bed of rice and nuts,

a richly spiced machbous stew of lobster,

crab, tuna, snapper, shrimp,

and body parts collected after drone raids

sizzling in a broth of human blood.

 

I will visit Doha Central Prison,

count the roaches and rats in the filthy cells,

listen to the screams

at the interrogation room door,

leaf through the forced confessions

of imaginary crimes against the state,

watch prisoners flogged and stoned

in the prison yard. I will

look for you there in your tiny cell,

Mohamed Ibn Al Ajami,

sentenced to life

for a poem criticizing the

elite ruling family

of thieves. If we could break you out,

we would not hesitate, but all we can

offer you today is a glass of clean love

and the world’s ear.

 

Satiated, I will head to

the Family Fun tourist

Amusement Park of 1001 delights,

by the water’s edge in Doha,

called the Kingdom of Aladdin,

with thrilling games and rides suitable for all ages,

and GIs on leave,

Ferris wheel, carousel, bumper cars,

go-karts, trampoline, air hockey arena,

video game arcade. I will

stand in the front car

of the Thunder Bullet roller coaster

and violate Articles 130 and 134 of the Penal Code,

invoking many years in prison

or even death

for speaking truth

about the Emir

and prophesizing the downfall           

of his crime family regime,

propped in place by American imperial might.

I will stand in the front car of the roller coaster

and speak your poem.

And as I speak I will listen

to the Gulf waters lapping softly

against the gentle beach

and hear their echoes

in the deep heart of the people,

beyond oppression’s reach.