(For Syria)
I find a way...
My black skin has people staring
in awe...
''It's not the ghosts of the dead that hunt places...
Winds
chiming...
For the yawning dim night that wraps itself around...
if you believe that I'm a new moon glowing through...
It was over a decade ago when I left my childhood
beneath quilts devoid of your once familiar...
As a child I was fascinated by your back,
I saw your freckles as docks and my crayons...
I've been studying you,
little girl...
Whenever you nestle up against
your coffee cup and undress me...
Before the dawn, I always wake up to find
last night's dreams sleeping beneath my pillow...
The sun's rays are panting
like dry tongues...
No matter how submissive the night is,
I will originate a succession...