Things are different, here

this is what I tell you,
things are different here

I don't speak of the world as if it has 'corners'
because this is an invitation to walls

one that sat on the street
on your breath too long

but I assure you, taking your hand
is unmatched of silk to skin

you witness the sky, a bit clearer
with all shades possible of the same morning

twitter of a bird or two,
crazy is gradation of the day, very clear

a building crumbles like paper
on the heads of its inhabitant to make more way

for trees, for houses, for a man's dog
some men are more worthy than others

it is different here
what's most holy has killed the prophets
we survive because we have lost faith

green hand

once spring made the trees glitter green
at your touch, you said, a green hand makes the soil grow
long held out the grass is yellow in the garden
it misses your green hand

in the crease

Between your smile and your hand sifting flour 

I find my footing, this is an obsessions, 

to find the path to make of the bread- a meaning 

in the crease of your wrinkles, 

I find my homeland, how the wrinkles 

of the olive tree, like olive skin generate newer blood

this ancient being has no heftiness

I find my energy in the lightness of your step

cane-bent, but like sugar-cane, you still stand tall at church 

perched on the old desk, that is pinned to the glass

I find my reassurance that once young 

can mean a potential of the future folded in a wrinkled crease 

between your smile and your hand 

I find the remaining bits of thread for a thob

a dress, stitched gold and red

the colors of royals and peasant, contained like my homeland 

on cloth, wrapping around your hands, grandmother. 

re-watch, re-tell

night descends while the window flickers with a soft breeze
I sit to watch the stars align one more time,
tell me another tale, then
my lone shadow

The woman who spoke about other women's freedom

Found chained to the bed
a bruise around the head
the woman who spoke about other women's freedoms
was heard howling at a familiar claw
tearing fast at a white robe, now red

the beggar, the visitor

Thief, screams the beggar
at the ant
that begged for a morsel of his borrowed bread

forget (v)

like a man does

comes the advice about forgetfulness

as if the brain picks a gender to place a heartache into

systemically like a lost brooch 

 like a found treasure chest

bury astray, the given 

forced over like a bent shadow 

the careless hand that pretends to feed while it's empty

take down the music, where the memory 

captures a rapture that can only be replaced 

by photographs smeared over with fingerprints

like a Christmas tree fold the branches and tuck it away

there's something very surgical about a removal

a death of some sort forced onto the living

a rush of a thousand meteors 

without answer or reason 

how many ways were these atoms formulated to make two bodies?

maybe it is neither a job or a demand 

to keep the bodies under check 

a jog, a dance, a walk 

is enough to let new air in

this is a kind verb 

it allows us interpretations with leeway

if you play with meaning, do you arrive at the desired end of the ocean

or where you really just a few kilometers down your own shore?