over the sting

My scorpion, you inspire me to write
in secret about the times I have held your hand
without the sting over my skin

Surpassing heartache

Too long we have been on this road together;
you and I

we passed on another
on a cold winter night

we walked with awkward feet
colliding first into each other

too long have we been on this road together
but tell me how do we surpass

all the heartache that is there
with just a simple photograph

of you in a museum
smiling at a complex painting

folding into your hands
all the errors of my past.

an aerial view of loneliness

There you are 

standing tall like an elm 

overseeing the crowds, like from a plane 

an aerial view of loneliness 

Rock heavy

my biggest fear
is that each time I harden
I will turn into a rock

When I'm sick

When I'm sick
my mind is at its sharpest in math

calculating distances without touching
 on the times I shivered like a leaf

near the black board with the thought
that a pit of numbers will take me down

my dreams are different now
they are closer to touch

salty on my tongue
yet it remains a sharp brain in math

and a poor lung.

Chores

The pan's lifted out of the fire
no burnt, the food filling stomachs

the sheets dry with the tinge
of the sweat that lined them for days

the boots all sparkling clear
of the dusk walked over in the streets

there is so much order in the house
where does this silence come from, then?

Freedom is restricted

close your mouth
put tape over its corners

tie your legs together
with a stone, send it down a lake

put your hands to other use
than typing on a keyboard

avert your eyes
from areas marked with "caution"

cut all buddings of feather
growing between your shoulders

this is natural, a redefinition
of you being free to be restricted too.

Strike

It is all closed, the storefronts
the streets, all void of people

it is all kept at bay
the cooking, the school-boys running with burdened bags

it is all left behind
the tiresome, slow hours of work

it is all closed off, striking
except the windows to my heart, open.

other versions of a nightmare

I had a dream in  which  you died
when I opened my eyes
you screamed at me

rejection

Discarded are the hours
you never slept
judged by a mysterious hand

Inappropriate time

The open curtain lets in the wind
her bare body baring itself on the bed
you leave to pick up a call.

hunger

I've seen the orchard
filling with apples yet denied myself
picking the blood you've planted for the season.

a writing in the head

How frustrating
is the process of writing
something that you cannot hear in your head

Dream

I hold no awakening
the minute you catch a sun
as it falls in my head in sleep

a nightmare of hallucination

There's a jaguar that follows your son
into a mouse hole, same available in cartoon
but you are real, flesh and blood in my arms

there's a daughter holding a teddy bear
crying about unborn children
yet she's unmarried

there's you, Kohl filled eyes
brown like pine cones
caressed and written for, for years

there's a moment of fear and love
wrapped like a blanket at once
like it's a thing we cannot deny

existing in the midst of all unexplained
switches, trees swishing over in seconds
transported into another space

that has no bitterness
you are real, flesh and blood in my arms
the jaguar gallops
your son goes into the mouse hole and wildly I wake up.

noise licking my ears

I can never get used to the sound
arriving after glory of silence
with many tongues licking my ears

privilege

is to think with deep considerations
that none of your shoes fit you
when the children of your neighborhood walk the streets barefoot

it's calm

A thunderstorm beats around the edge of your balcony
it is calm, we say, this potential gathering of clouds

the wind blows eastward, taking with it leaves
shoots and dust, it is calm, a quiet noise around the house

it is summer and the streets are boiling
with a hint of those who have started to feel, it's calm

we speak of the sea that is high and infested
with jellyfish and human skins

it is calm, how we raise our heads to face mornings
that are full when they bend us in half

all is calm here, in the safest points of the mountain
where we overlook the sleepers and refuse to see

how calm turns us over in the head.

Accusation

A mother with error
does not look back
retrace her steps in space
before her hand comes down on the child's shoulder.

awake

this is what your voice does
calling in the night-time

it is always beautiful to know
someone else shares your loneliness

in between the hours
you should have been sharing sleep

a dream that reaches
around all the heads you wear

but there you are, tiny, sitting voiceless
listening to a description, while awake

looking out on a nocturnal village
that rest at 3:00 am.