POETRY



Ode to My Husband, Who Brings The Music

There are more windows in the new house, so much light the living room feels weightless. On weekends, I find you staring out into the garden from the sofa. You always wake before me, go downstairs & start playing a …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

god moves at the speed of my name

in vacuum know words to praise god cant explain love letters 2 god of no one else god mother i tongue i light fallen far from patriarch and fist just wait til i learn my language my logic sans rules …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

For the Bagged Body in Front of Koshary Ameen Restaurant

Sometimes, I think about your hair, how it must have smelled of the space in bones where and when we curve inward, layered in casein, dry oats, incoherences. How yesterday, you picked up a slab of sheep meat, a couple …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

fairouz is searching for a pair of eyes

the colour of a country & in the national gallery of art i find hers staring at me from within the body of a new woman a spectacle of light caught mid conversation in the limelight nearby i tell her …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

How did the gods make skin waterproof, asks my lover

London, August 30th, 2019 Her beauty blotted out the screech of metal on wheels, trains in the anxious depths, big city loudness. Tattoos— on joints, a cryptic symbol or ten. On calf, a dragon exhaling. Clavicle: the spread wings of …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

Being-Nothingness

After Aphrodite Desiree Navab’s Super East-West Woman The dervish in me can’t let go of my addiction to theory. There are so many ways to explain the tragedy of devotion; all the names of God held captive by I. Come …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

Spring Fragment

I could see the branches, how they swept back and back. The sky a narrow scrap of color breaching gray cloudfront. In the human landscape, dandelions and debris, overgrown blades of sward. I felt a little crushed, in the pleasant …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

Understanding

We’ve come to it now and sleep in rooms far apart dreaming of others. —for Hananah Zaheer

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

apology

is the summer after my spleen almost ruptured into the stain of a thousand sunsets. i am sitting in a therapist’s office, and she asks me to start at the moment i wanted to die from my own hands. i …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

Elegy on Plastic Kazoo

after Dean Young, for Drew So many things in this life are unlike themselves in cartoons, but it took me finding a scorpion in Theodore’s bathtub to admit it. I didn’t ask if there was blood, a limb still sweet …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

Journey

Already you’re walking down the road alone, though you insist you can still turn back. You’d rather not hear our grief-song, so we offer silence, the one gift still possible. Your body was the oldest home you ever knew. Stalwart …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged

Ramadan, 1979

Barely old enough to fast, my father agreed to half-a-day with water. In the morning I put on my slippers & moved with the rhythm of our households: a little mimic to the adults who woke to pray. The azhan …

Posted in 94: BAYT | Tagged