"Remember that name."

Mohsen Fakhrizadeh,

living in the shadows

and dying in the shadows,

while i hear the sounds of gunfire,

feel the heat of faraway death

pouring from a rural road close to Tehran.

with no warning, his horizon vanishes

and the sun abruptly sets;

a light flickers and dims,

and later alone in a hospital, he dies,

briefly remembering bodyguards screaming,

shatter-resistant glass shattering:

a final nuclear chaos amid the atomic calm of a back seat cell.

and a hush falls while the wheels of retribution begin to spin, 

as the wheels of the black Nissan remain still, 

blood and bone signaling the street battle was intense.

"Remember that name, Fakhrizadeh," Netanyahu once brazenly said,

his own wife becoming nervous, 

noticing how slowly the hours pass.

with heavy jewelry rattling,

she walks to her bath,

briefly gazing into the mirror.