Daniel W.K. Lee

Fajr Massacre 

                                    On August 10, 2024, Israel dropped four, U.S.-made, GBU-39
                                    bombs on the al-Tabin school-turned-shelter in the Daraj
                                    neighborhood of Gaza City during fajr (dawn) prayers.


The weight of unsorted
fractions of the missing.
A new familiarity, a grim identity,
at 70 kilograms including the plastic bag:

“relative”

As in: “relative” is relative.
As in: pray a piece in there was a part
of the sister that would brush
your lush hair before breakfast. The one
who shared your father’s patrician nose.
But here, these 70 kilograms of Nakba
are yours, Allah’s mercy, for mourning.

But wait: this parcel is for you too.
30 kilograms mean “child.”
Give them a name your mouth was used to shaping:
Fatima. Amal. Wafa. Khaled, maybe.
They are yours now, Allah’s mercy, for burying.

You see: the meat doesn’t
add up to the known gone.
How do we separate and measure the thin crimson
clinging to sizzling earth like fond?
How do we collect carnage and address it
as grandmother, uncle, or “springtime of my heart?”
What’s the equivalent kilograms for “newborn”
0-years-old and subtracted from their swaddling cloth?

Take these bags, Allah’s mercy, take them.

When Afforded the Choice

You have turned away for too long
to a life you cannot bear to watch
or have gazed at deathlust devouring
everything from the air inside little ones’ lungs
to the Yafa orange groves that once sipped sun
and yet have dealt rounds of indifference like a casino.

Today is August 21, 2024, and earlier,
while at brunch, you swiped past
footage of a Palestinian man, possibly my age,
brandishing a boy whose skull was deboned
from an Israeli precision strike.
Was it his own son’s head reduced to the pink,
slick side of the face flapping against
a not-yet-adolescent chest?
An unripe length of life, littered in real time,
become receipt from our tax-backed
brothel of agony.

As a matter of fairness,
I weaponize the specifics.
It’s too late to leave them unread.

Now choose again.

Daniel W.K. Lee (李華強) is a third-generation refugee, queer, Cantonese American born in Kuching, Malaysia. He earned his Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at The New School, and his debut collection of poetry, Anatomy of Want, was published by QueerMojo/Rebel Satori Press. His work has been seen in print and online, including recent pieces in Winter in America (Again, High Rise: Brutalist Poetry, the 2025 Saints & Sinners Poetry Anthology, South Dakota Review, Foglifter, and 64 Parishes. He is a co-host of the “Power Beyond Pride” podcast and lives in New Orleans with his head-turning whippet Camden. Find out more about him at danielwklee.com, join his Patreon at patreon.com/danielwklee, or follow him: @strongplum on Instagram or @danielwklee.bsky.social on Bluesky

Banner Art:
Gaza Strip, Photo by Emad El Byed, Unsplash, 2025

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