Saturday, September 23, 2017

the other face

Empty tissue boxes,
syringes with caps left open
the prose sleeps in between dosages of medication
this is the other face of illness, no one sees clearly

We talk

I tell you how to fry an egg without burning it 
give you direction to the folding of t-shirts and the saving of old pots 
teach you over distance how to carve a perfect apple 
how to pick your fights
how to assure you never lose your wars
all that you could have learnt had you been a sunshine 
through the family home, brother

the power of three

There is something about the power of three items combined
a reason behind faith and magic:
three stars aligned in the talisman around your eyes
the trinity of holy, sacred and sinful
gathering like a storm that finds its end before it begins
the after thought that by omission
a grand touch of breeze will find you, near the river
with three books near you, with your hunger
gnawing at the power of trinities

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Gone this autumn

This autumn, falls quicker than I can master
the young hairs, fresh like dew
the oldest of friends, all departing for lands with longer winters
the epiphanies of a homeland, that awaits trial by errors and worngdoings
the chants of my lips, the wait in the music
all with the leaves,gone this autumn

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

the evil eye

An eye that winks
with the reverence of a tear
can also sting with envy

Take my eyes, friend

Take my eyes, friend
I will be able to show you how beautiful is broken

into little pieces of light colored scarves, like whispers
floating through the air,

Take my eyes, friend
I will be able to show you fear in different forms

how the house my grandfather lived in was broken into one night
in his eyes, as he departed, the sunshine broke over the grey sea

the sea where we swam
where we swore on our bodies, we shall be back, one day

take my eyes, friend
I will show you what it means to learn to dance for hours straight

yet still be awkward about the thousand ways
a woman is supposed to cross her legs

with decency, with vigor, with pride
without showing too much, or too little skin and stone

take my eyes friend,
I will take you to where a woman stitches pieces of tatreez

together, black background and red thread
one for blood, the other for those dead

take my eyes friend,
for my broken is beautiful
for my fear is accepted
for your love is redeemed with the wave of a hand to beauty.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Teenage love

Your old violins,
a long black overcoat that lines your features

your imaginative ways to make me smile
a turban wrapped to heat your bald head in the winter hours

 your new cigars
smoking breaks between the instruments and the music

always sweet,
the exchange of note to voice, of symbols to music

your hands and fingers
made razor sharp by the incision of strings

Nowadays, your violin weeps
for another woman while all I can do is hold to memory