Untitled

Untitled

 

I would like it to stop.

This unrelenting

summer remembrance

of unfiltered heat

scathing sweat

floating skirts

tangled legs

our worn out bodies

come the first angry light.

Thoughts they tap in at dusk

always,

my inconsistent determination

to forget you

falters as the sun weeps

in the distance of nightfall.

Cringing blank solace

of an empty bed

mattress of stone

I sink,

like drops of humidity

on my viewless window.

Damned star signs

vague compatibility

the start of us—

as clear as our déjà vu

our paths crossing on narrow asphalt

politics, the press

maybe Beirut is too small for fate.

Now,

nothing is left

but my heaving sighs

a ragged lament I sing in the night,

charred and ruthless is the blame

I singe onto my flesh

and lie next to your shadow

finding there its guiltless mirror.

Autumn is now with you

in the jacket you wear from cold

and hold your hands so rigid

in your uncomfortable picture pose.

That necklace you wear

the one I’ve traced

as delicately

as your attachment to it,

my hushed fingers

gliding on brown beads

still wrapped around your neck

those same notions

your Marxist morals

manifesto so proud

yet no regard

for common decency.

And I,

who’s voice you said

was too close

on the phone that last time

eluding you

in my unattainable proximity

the wince you must have felt

knowing my lips

will never be that close

to whisper

in your obedient ear,

not my shadowed face

now fading,

not my burning eyes

at your lack of care

like the sudden wind in spring,

before your uncautioned charm

before the sliver of emotion you

spat out then ran

childlike and callous

on streets too narrow to forget you

where tight walls

have grazed your skin

chipped off and bleeding,

left open on your damaged shell

in your fragmented self,

and the tired earth

rarely makes a sound

at our pounding feet

to whisper of what has passed

between the dawn and our lips

still I know

the sea will someday tell.

October 9, 2008