• In Palestine

    In Palestine, 

    and I mean within 

    the holy walls of mosques, 

    prayers are incinerated

    at dawn. 

    I stand there collecting

    the dismembered limbs 

    of my people

    while the world

    watches behind 

    screens. 

    If moments of

    silence were held

    to honor our dead,

    the world would be

    silent indefinitely.

    If I, too, shall go

    amongst other casualties,

    you must resist till 

    my land is free.

  • [You who arrived]

    To you who arrived

    and sat tenderly on

    the hills and valleys

    of my heart, I am writing.

    Here, there are forests to

    wonder and hours to waste

    enveloped in pleasure.

    I have come to know you

    as perfume knows memory,

    as windows knows light, and

    as streets know the quiet

    after midnight.

    I have known your skin

    and wore it better than

    I often wear mine.

    Even time forgets it is

    moving when you’re nearby.

    Even hands don’t

    know to hold after

    holding you.

    Even I pretend I know love,

    foolishly hoping you don’t

    notice that I have not been

    blessed with a joy this great.

    You, beloved, are all

    the light I have searched for,

    indefinitely. Open arms that

    welcome me sweetly when I

    am waiting, eagerly, to meet

    tenderness that is you.

    It is as though I have not dined

    in joy, in wonder, in bliss of this

    feeling before I entered your

    apartment, your mind, or life.

    I sit here afraid you

    may be the start

    of a real thrill

    to my heart.

    I sit here thinking

    what a joy it is,

    just to be next to you.

    I sit here thinking,

    and the more I think,

    I wonder where you

    have been every

    time I needed

    love like you to arrive.

  • I am pleased
    you’re present too.

    I am tender again
    with you sat next to me
    at the coffee shop that
    we love so dearly.

    I think you’d forgotten
    or eaten that avo-chicken
    sandwich I’d grabbed
    you from the place
    around the corner.

    What may come,
    I am thrilled to see
    elegantly unfold before me.

    You may be the death of me again
    and I am welcoming you with open arms.

  • Anywhere could be Amsterdam 

    Honey,
    that’s what it tasted like
    when you kissed me
    in your hotel room;

    like honey
    on an aircraft
    where the air
    is so thin
    it makes
    my head
    light.

    Loving you
    made me
    feel that high.

    You made
    my lonely
    forget itself.

    You made
    me believe
    home
    was neither
    a place nor
    a person.

    Before leaving,
    I wanted to tell you:
    of all the places
    you have been,
    I wanted my heart
    to be your favorite.

    Instead,
    I said: tell me,
    what does
    Amsterdam
    look like?

    You smiled,
    almost to say:
    anywhere could be
    Amsterdam,
    anywhere with you.

  • I don’t like milk 
    only with coffee
    and mainly in
    round cups that
    remind me
    of the direction
    my head spins in
    when you
    talk to me.

    My head,
    and heart
    retired when
    you almost
    kissed
    me
    in the street.

    My knees
    refuse to
    hold my body
    in protest that
    you
    should be
    holding me.

    I want my body
    next to your body
    with nobody
    around.

    Won’t you
    move into
    my heart?

    I want
    to forget
    everybody
    that rented it
    before you.