Arms Poem by Mohon Raihan

Where have you kept them, where,
how many do you have?
Come, speak up, shouted
the police chief again and again.

Tell me, you bastard, son of a bitch,
where have you hidden them?

With red eyes the CID officer
opened his intelligence report book
and showing it to his boss said,
Look, sir, here it is!

Suddenly a terrific blow
landed on my nose,
on my eyes, face, chest, ribs
and abdomen.
The sound of kicks and sticks
raining down on me
seemed to make the whole world
rock and roll.

I could not tell how long
it rocked and rolled.

When I regained consciousness
I licked with my parched tongue
the dark clotted blood around
my lips
and laughed out.
My eyes were two grenades,
my nose a stain gun,
my rib-bone a rifle,
my two hands a light machine gun
and my feet a tank.

How come, then, that they
could not find any arms
on me?