(i will not tell you)

my skin rips

at the mention of your name

find your scent

across cities

see red

for days after

we touch

arms bruised

from carrying

this

question

s.s.

we are water

shadi reminds me that human beings are comprised mostly of water.
i say it aloud: we. are. water.

i imagine my body as the ocean
hips propel movement
waves gather
rise up
climb rib cage extend
foam hands that
colonize throat
heart bobs like a stubborn ship
avoiding whirlpool fate

as my entire being is
pulled like a marionette
by the loving moon

s.s.

ars poetica

we are the thin skin
tribe
bare bone warriors
caress the weary
kiss feet
rub wounds
we live in your houses
in shelves
under beds
rest in your ear
stay awhile
dance on tongues
we ride the light
frequencies
like fire flies
eat the darkness
disparage our efforts
we see through your pain
and
shower
wreaths made of words

s.s.

lunar love(r)

your face carries moon
lineage
floats above shoulders
above houses
above cloud
eyes like two
secrets
veiled and bright
lips waning
waxing
dust song

s.s.

the sun is in your hands

a freewrite using the lyric the sun is in your hands, player from bilal's sometimes

the sun is in your hands, player.

yellow
ripe
full.
sometimes bashful
sometimes brazen

long fingers
orbiting sphere

ushering dusk
with the tilt
of a palm

i am the light you hold

s.s.

v.3 (insomnia)

in her dreams
his skin tastes like tears

her own voice wakes her up
whispering
'habibi, habibi.. where are you?'

s.s.

what the body remembers

got

my ancestors words

clawing their way up my throat

trying to get out

like a song

whose melody i can't place

s.s.

dança da solidão

a dear friend sent me this poem once. i found it again today.

s.s.

"don’t
surrender
your loneliness so quickly.
let it cut more
deep
let it ferment and season you
as few human
or even divine ingredients can.
something missing in my heart tonight
has made my eyes so soft,
my voice so
tender
my need of god
absolutely
clear.”

- hafiz

first

he used to lick the salt from her shoulders

now all he tastes are his own tears

blankets cover heavy, body like corpse

silence screams loud

he won’t sleep

crushed mango reminds him of her smile

fruit makes him cry

he prays/
swallows chilies whole to bring the heat to his throat

wishing his words were the butterflies in her chest

winter wind spits bitter

still

he envies the breeze that grazes her face

whispers words to the sky

wears scars like armour 

cracked and hard

skin so thick

he does not notice

when her lips touch his feet

s.s.

lubrification

to all my poets
with dry fingers
rub your hands together
until oil drips on paper
once again

s.s.