Tuesday 22 November 2016

A Day in the Maryam of Winter

Across the road
snow has fallen
and filled
her body that
she kept on a rock


Maryam is an aluminum
box her grandmother
stores blouses in
of her foremother
from another land where
dust drowns itself
in the sea

A crow whistles
The scene shivers

Maryam leans
forward to take a glance
of her palms heavy
with someone else’s
dry leaves

She looks at the crow
The crow stares back
at her, they exchange eyes

Maryam can now
see herself from
the tree--her
body leaning
and collecting snow

She takes her eyes
back to throw them
at a black
dot receding
in the distance

Maryam then walks
to her house and
sits by the window
With leaves she paints
the trees brown
With snow she paints
the frame white

Wednesday 28 September 2016

Taking Trips Inside a Room

A song walking in
Between my finger tips
Flew to his hair

I asked him
– Did you hear that?

He said – no, it was
Just your hand
Of ink marks
And dry mountain rocks

But then he
Sent a letter of
Striped pieces of heat
Walked over by
A confident spider
When the night spread
Inside the neighbour’s mouth

The letter wrapped up
In winter fog
Climbed the roof
Crawled on the floor
And reached my waist

Saturday 19 March 2016

Weather is Changing Clothes

There are moments
In the lifespan
Of an elephant's memory
When romantic rotations
Of the earth allow
Land and sky
To knot legs,
Legs stiff from
Elaborate sessions of
Knotting together
So perfectly that
It seems he is
passing through
A movie set.

My lady
Is made of
Copper and gold.
Her face is
A monastry for
Music to stretch
Arms in and touch
Its own face.
Her elbows scratch
Rocks, they hide
Behind their mothers.
Her waist climbs wind
Lets the earth
Untie its hair.

Saturday 12 March 2016

Street that Chases Its Tail

An empty glass of
water traps wind
brings a storm through
keyholes on the body
goes breathless and
rests on a tongue
till friends visit
in the evening
to watch veins dancing
on their arms
and yawn big Os
so that the magic is lost forever
while 3 A.M. crows
make fun of birds
who sleep next to them.

Morning is a disappointed friend
who never offers you a cigarette.