For Gaza
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For Gaza
Stranger, warmth returned to the pink
of your palm, slide your fingers over my lips,
a sealed love letter in a bottle.
Secrets are really just in search of an
ear to crawl home. The flower to your hearts
darling bud that opens up like a novel.
We douse our faces with ash, a sacred rite
of benevolent smear we dab behind our ears. The wind
blows it gone. I can’t help but wonder, is this
love ends? In my cab, I watched your fingers lick
the mist-covered window as a caligrahper’s pen
drawing escape plans to Mecca. My eyes so full
questions. We drove past the lamp posts and trees
that lean with life each nest a child strapped to a mother’s
back.The birds singing to lull their young asleep.
You no longer need to hide the cars,
Palestine, Gaza sits as wound across
The strip of flesh between your breasts
You veil in your hijab.
We burn some rain on your toungue.
Your mouth a mosaic cut of glass, a
goblet to catch sunshine as a pail atop
your head that empties when we kiss.
You said out loud enough to browbeat
The neighbours, “This is not Islam”.
But I took you in my arms anyways.
We cannot argue with grace. When god
sobs, there is nothing haram in the way you claw
at your thighs to draw out blood.
The sand clings to my eyes:blind; I see not.
My ears stopped, to harvest sound. We disperse as dust.
The street spilt. Gasoline spilt on the tarred path.
We rush to drink the tarnished milk as blood
We sop with bread. There is no promise of communion
here, Egypt we are dying, Egypt we are dying
O Alexandria!
By badawi caravan we have seen the tumble
weed tussling the arid savannah at dark
and know now how it feels to be forgotten.
What a strange and yet common song?
I call your name in tongues the darkness swallows
whole. I am just a broken throat. I know you have
heard this old song before when we watched
the stars scratch light unto a blackboard
and felt… foolish. When was the last time
we put aside our differences and scuffled
for the moon? Upon pulse of morning, you wait
for the first kiss of dawn as chaste leaf. The sun
has always been your lover. Become sand with me.
I will love you everywhere.
My tears mere atoms over Hiroshima I smear on your
skin as on ocean washes the feet of shore. I am yours
to slave labour, tilt the sand, pick the crop and bear
children in the gross. Salt the sweat that breaks from
my spine and serve it over pounded yam. We will dine
in silence. My blood but sap to feed the future
nestled in your womb. Judea will need sons.
Seeds to lead us unto the grain again where will meet
At feet of Galilee, walk the Jordan, and this time drown
Without a fight. Today’s news costs money but tomorrow
It will be free.
Stranger, warmth returned to the pink
of your palm, slide your fingers over my lips,
a sealed love letter in a bottle.
Secrets are really just in search of an
ear to crawl home. The flower to your hearts
darling bud that opens up like a novel.
We douse our faces with ash, a sacred rite
of benevolent smear we dab behind our ears. The wind
blows it gone. I can’t help but wonder, is this
love ends? In my cab, I watched your fingers lick
the mist-covered window as a caligrahper’s pen
drawing escape plans to Mecca. My eyes so full
questions. We drove past the lamp posts and trees
that lean with life each nest a child strapped to a mother’s
back.The birds singing to lull their young asleep.
You no longer need to hide the cars,
Palestine, Gaza sits as wound across
The strip of flesh between your breasts
You veil in your hijab.
We burn some rain on your toungue.
Your mouth a mosaic cut of glass, a
goblet to catch sunshine as a pail atop
your head that empties when we kiss.
You said out loud enough to browbeat
The neighbours, “This is not Islam”.
But I took you in my arms anyways.
We cannot argue with grace. When god
sobs, there is nothing haram in the way you claw
at your thighs to draw out blood.
The sand clings to my eyes:blind; I see not.
My ears stopped, to harvest sound. We disperse as dust.
The street spilt. Gasoline spilt on the tarred path.
We rush to drink the tarnished milk as blood
We sop with bread. There is no promise of communion
here, Egypt we are dying, Egypt we are dying
O Alexandria!
By badawi caravan we have seen the tumble
weed tussling the arid savannah at dark
and know now how it feels to be forgotten.
What a strange and yet common song?
I call your name in tongues the darkness swallows
whole. I am just a broken throat. I know you have
heard this old song before when we watched
the stars scratch light unto a blackboard
and felt… foolish. When was the last time
we put aside our differences and scuffled
for the moon? Upon pulse of morning, you wait
for the first kiss of dawn as chaste leaf. The sun
has always been your lover. Become sand with me.
I will love you everywhere.
My tears mere atoms over Hiroshima I smear on your
skin as on ocean washes the feet of shore. I am yours
to slave labour, tilt the sand, pick the crop and bear
children in the gross. Salt the sweat that breaks from
my spine and serve it over pounded yam. We will dine
in silence. My blood but sap to feed the future
nestled in your womb. Judea will need sons.
Seeds to lead us unto the grain again where will meet
At feet of Galilee, walk the Jordan, and this time drown
Without a fight. Today’s news costs money but tomorrow
It will be free.
captivation