Don’t look at the asphalt
It has no heart
though blood courses
through its veins
It has no heart
though its beats can be heard
in the pulse of soles
As the only witness left
it holds the gavel
Receives bodies
Refuses pleas
— — — — —
trucks of corpses
On the asphalt
oceans of black bags
On the asphalt
sifting through each wave, finding no familiar face
Over the asphalt
infant twins, tagless toes, tubed throats
Across the asphalt
cuffed hands, holes in heads, genitals and breasts
The asphalt
asphalt
Asphalt
over the gravestones
There shouldn’t be
so many cemeteries everywhere
when there’s asphalt to spare
mothers ululate, fathers clap, they dance
no matter how much of it they pour
Dance for your daughter
Dance for your son
Dance for birthdays gone
Dance for weddings left undone
It transcribes their shoeprints
(which shoes?
those we traded our lives for—
our parents may not dance
barefoot on our future grave)
— — — — —
Cheaper than cobblestones
Costlier than human bones
Priceless
Yet there are prices
markets
tariffs
sanctions
for this asphalt
As for our fault?
In the 21st century bazaar
we window-shopped democracy
lost track of time
we looked past the price tag:
One drop of freedom
costs gallons of lives
So we kindly ask
Don’t look at the asphalt
unless you have time
to read tens of thousands
of epitaphs
Or to stay and dance
“This poem was inspired by the events that unfolded during the January 2026 massacre in Iran. As a direct witness to the atrocities that occurred, I wanted to amplify the voice of those brave souls whose deaths passed largely unseen by the wider world. There are few people who understand the situation in Iran, and even fewer who care to learn or listen. I hope this poem can shine a tiny spotlight on the experiences of those who were killed, and also those who survived.” —Hamed Hosseini
Hamed “Hamin” Hosseini is a non-binary poet from Iran. Their work has previously appeared in Rattle. For security reasons, they can’t disclose their educational background. When not busy surviving wars, protests, and internet blackouts, they spend their days taking care of street cats and surviving a 9-to-5. You probably can’t find them online.