25 Jan anniversary

 

the ritual:
a lit mouth of cigarette fumes
and eaten babies
i’m too scared to prick myself
with your taxis
one disheveled man called out
at the road’s trash border
probably to sell me
a map of nameless bones
i could hear a brash television flickering
over the noise of
his lustrous lip licks
applauding my childbearing
genetics
and a click clack from the ancient woman on the second floor
watching over me
her kohl ruled eyes a shade
of grey similar to new
borns
till values become insufferable
again

no one visits,
like the cyle of life
om kalthoum doesn’t either
she can no longer
mute an inconsolable memory
nor can the politics be
confined to a full moon
and hash nights
playing werewolf

we persist

i collect stubbed cigarettes
in the hope that our two cats
find solace
in rats and rooves
patient survival is unlike acceptance
you will find no repentance
from unmarked graves
and a dirty corniche
i
leave the articles of failure
to the expats and
sister revolutions
who worship borders
and practice their arabic via skype

this revolution is
not so insufferable
as time

to point guilty fingers and die
off
so agreeably
i
is one too many
for their prisons and
presidential sermons
to be of whispered convenience

is it worth the exaltations?
a dictator can throne the flag
as rule of law
the eagle wrapping its wings
around some eyes
but
the taste of the nile
cannot be unseen
whose pollution will
outlast
their grime

 

Image Credit: Street Art by Alaa Awad

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