Monday, June 27, 2005


To Obe

Every few years,
Like an eclipse,
I see you once.
And every time,
Just like the moon,
You sink in me.


I blur the edges of your name
And watch her fake a smile,
And with my anger, proceed to bury them all.
The vastness of the hall, the resonance of empty chairs,
The grimace just before her voice breaks,
And in the hollow of her black you peek,
A punctured soul billowing in the light.


You come and load me with the guilt of the jasmine
And leave like an empty street with no name.


Flattened I sat in front of you
Picking my slivers from between your teeth,
Putting out the fire for the last time
Before you leave.

Flattened I sat against the sky
Scraping my smile off smeared walls,
Piecing it for you, upside down.

Flattened I faded before your eyes
A hundred years in one,
And in every year I invented myself,
Again, just for your pride.

Flattened, from beneath the table,
I looked up at you soaring above your skin
Claiming the stars like you just spat them;
And I wondered why, while crunching the moon,
You sounded like an angel choking
On broken glass?


Abu Takla said...

A wonderful poem, and an amazing poet...

Jessica said...

Pretty words.

Anonymous said...

Hey Dear,

I do not know if you wrote this poem for me, but even if you did not, it spoke to me.

She did not really care to whom she was written. She spoke to me.

I find this poem extremely hard to give feedback because it killed me. I would be able, surely, to highlight certain parts that were especially brilliant, but this poem soars beyond that as well. I shall allow myself, merely, to say that in this poem (and as I noticed, in all of the following poems) you have got over writing in response to a brilliant first line(s); as to that testifies the fact that ma l7i2ette to get over the first part that you bombarded me with the breathtaking last part.

Mitlil qasf,
Ton frère Ahmad

arch.memory said...

To be honest with you, this wasn't for you. (HINT: If/when I write to someone or with someone in mind, I usually put a dedication in white type--so it's hidden--either at the beginning or the end of the poem. So, happy hunting!) But as you said, that doesn't matter as long as it "spoke to you". After all, that is all it takes for one to lay claim on a poem. And I am glad you did.

And thank you so much, habibi. Your praise always means a lot to me.

Anonymous said...

De rien! xxxxxxxx Mmmm you are so cute!


Ton frère Ahmad