Two Nights

Snubbed! And for two nights

the ants crawled

right into bed with me

the soaring headless

horsemen told me tales

of your escapades

and two nights were left

wondering

entailed a suspicious mind

to be evoked

from casual curiosity.

I supposed

chivalry

is attached to loneliness

those seeking help

were tremendously helpful

in my journey towards

lovesickness

but no matter

what strung me like a puppet

is now cut loose

goodbye mercy

you were no help

the voices hurdled a spear

and I am down

my right side bleeding

the truncated conversations

and rash decisions we made

the night of the last

civility

because without it

foggy nights

meant a downfall

into some unfamiliar oasis

called hunger

love

desire

famine of the kind that will

corrode your arteries

and make them swallow

the bitter pill

that

is

me.

I do apologize for

resting all my hopes up

on two nights

the nights you busily

spend

contemplating the curse

of this model citizen.

Well I hope you're happy,

two nights,

the muted sound of mes

chansons

taught me better.

I shall fall into the deepest darkest chamber

never to be found again

after the two nights

of absolute blatant disfiguring

lovesickness.

I, I, and You

What is this glare

the unawareness

the cynical acknowledgment

of everything past

and the disappointing present

hidden in the curls of smoke

evaporating

snake-like and enchanting

like an addictive collaboration

of shame and spite.

On the walk home

the insidiously malicious gravel

held me up

like hands, stronger than Atlas'

directing this child

to keep aside the fear of losing

while bees commute from her liver to lungs

to the darker corners of

her ears

deafening the temptation to break

up, apart, and away.

If this was a cry for help

you'll no longer answer.

Young Heart

A song

I tested the night with infatuation

Four seas and leaning towards one,

a continent

Forgetting a promise,

not it was almost a promise.

Disavowing any loyalties.

I learned to replace words

with the word choice.

I learned to see you and I

through the gleam in his eyes

and the belt in the sky.

Forgetting a promise,

no, it was almost a promise.

You are but a wrecked young heart.

Nights and the Hollow Point of a Sword

I am a courageous son of a bitch

I burrow like

leaves under snow

when fog descends

I fall in love,

oh

the haunting eruptions.

I am wave

chased infinitely by the bending knees

you fall on when I

ran for the stairs

and you insist on burying your face in your hands

like a guilty guilty child.

I've always feared ceased persistence

being wooed for so long

I cannot unlearn the schemes

games are for the glorious

And yes, I am most certainly one.

The clever coldness

who could imitate art but

the artist herself?

You are most excitingly hidden,

and should remain that way.

Dear friend,

Happy birthday, sweet Elias.

I and I

I digressed

from blue to blue

you eat eat eat

away

my storm

my source of everything light

the frigid sense of the greater good

what wandering eyes

what what what

the grip of trite remarks

on the casual embarking towards

nothing

yes it was

indeed it was nothing nothing

repetition of an old wound

fingers entwined for a promise

you will not talk of it

the grandeur of possibilities

the trifecta of truth

him, her, the capacity of our judgements

without it the few stumbling blocks

fall into place

retrieving a harness

on our sensibilities.

We are the 

status quo of past mirror images.

L'oubli

In the ditch you found me

the lantern glowed dimly

it spoke to me in my

father's cryptic tongue

and told me to wait.

But I am not love;

I am not patient nor kind

I was in the ditch because I marched

in the rain

mud

snow

and sweltering heat

against Moerae

and my golden thread

they took hostage.

Daddy's real,

but my father wasn't

And in every man I've loved

I saw him peeked through

their translucent skin

like a parasitic testimony

of everything I feared.

But you are not him,

in your adamant promise to stay,

although I may be

and could be part of the

triumvirate hoax, or

the pendulum gravitating around

my father's hands

who I recently discovered

to not have been real

after all.

The Tempest

I am home, and not.

I'm merged in its timeline

an unforgiving host

and I, merely a guest

subdued for a fortnight,

and saint and sinner's daughter.

But sometimes I'm only the sinner's daughter

who had to tap her heels

to be allowed home

and there, I lost my grace

trapped in a perfume box

while the shortness of breath

was from the anxious stalling

as I wait for things to sail on

and wake up just in time to

give my saint back to her love,

just as she had asked me to do

once a year.

She had asked me to

show her my gum, 

my teeth, my tongue,

my insides

to check if any of them

have hurt me.

But mother, really,

I am just home.

Rebel Child

I drown

and the inertia

unravels

and toys

with novelty

of the mind. with poise

more so than my 

grandfather's fingers

while he grappled

with keys

he forgot I was there

I was five and quiet, then.

Lebanon

For Elias Khalil

I sleep with

paper cranes

both eyes open

the crickets smiled

they know it's not them this time

that kept me awake.

And when you sleep

you hear your mother

in short breaths

when you're awake you hear

yourself

in short breaths

pounding on the door

letting summer in

as it sneaks away

gliding across the floor

towards the door.

I'll be the little girl

in my green sundress

with my butterfly net

capturing glimpses of the sun

bring it back in a jar

trade it for her life

and her smile again.