immaculate obsession

you feel secure in this distance

where we waltz without touching though

you are always here always lingering

on the fringes of my imagination painted

like a fresco upon the shifting sand

like a mirage upon the desert floor

in this imaginary place where

our arms curl in a touchless embrace

and our hands caress transparent auras

you are here and you are not

and if one moment i see you

the moment after i am blind with sorrow

rigid and black wrapping around my

twisted paranoid manic green heart

paranoid and manic and riddled

with drunken cataracts green that

sprout while you are in her arms

and if one moment i see you smiling

the moment after you are enraged

your skin dyed acid and 
i am stricken with rigor mortis and

i grow cold 

though i once was warm

and the glimmer of my hips

oh how it glowed and drew them to me

drew them like only quicksand can draw

those others before you oh how they were drawn

but even then you lurked in the shadows

claiming ownership of my flesh though

your flesh belonged to another

is this why

even while you love my tender breasts

i grow cold

is this why

in my kaleidoscopic eyes

the desert is blue and the sky is gold

why is it we always make love with our eyes closed?

why is it we let the sandstorms stifle our orgasms?

why is it we pull back before the desert rains fall?

i have the memories of your arms your lips your legs

though touchless and transparent

and the imagined fragrance of your sex

i still sleep i still dream of the down on your nape

quivering in the breeze of the desert moon

i tear myself from the sand’s embrace

and sleep on the ceiling of the night

and i drip drop by drop by drop

i have only this touchless dance to devour

all day all night all day all night

only this immaculate dream on which to feed

and i grow smaller and thinner

while i await the closing of the distance

the opening of your fastened eyes

zar

they said she was possessed by demons. they said she challenged the spirits. they sat in the parlor and clucked and gossiped about someone’s sister and someone’s daughter. they said she was a distant relative. they said we used to play together as children. that we measured the breadth of the sky with our hands. and played dress-up in our mothers’ wardrobes. but that didn’t matter anymore. that was before the demons. that was before she screamed in the bathroom. that was before she called them out of the dark. before the headaches and the muteness and the doctors and the psychologists and the sheikhs and the priests. and the evening calls to prayer rang in the night. it was time for the zar to begin. in auntie rosa’s courtyard. in the dark of cairo illuminated by kerosene lamps. in a perimeter decorated with burning candles whose tongues licked the smoky haze of the air. and there was an altar. right over there. stacked with dry fruit. and roasted nuts. and a jug of cool rosewater. they said the fruit and nuts were an offering. one has to keep the demons satisfied. and the aroma of frankincense and oud swirled around us. all ladies in white gallabeyyas and sheer headscarves. and there was a rooster. a red rooster. he squawked to heaven because he knew. and the one they called kodia. SHE. a mystical woman who communed with the spirits. she came in like the queen of sheba in her gallabeyya of royal blue silk. she blinded us with her light. and her gold-capped teeth that glistened in the night. droplets of liquid fire. and the young lady. that one possessed by the demons. she was brought in like a calf to the slaughter. robed in white from neck to ankle like the bride she was to be. before she became the devil’s bride. eyes lined with black kohl. wrists wrapped with gold and silver amulets. hands and feet painted with red henna. and the voices said oh my soul. how my heart aches for her. look at her skin. like fresh milk. ya habibti helwa wi zayy el amar. she’s as beautiful as the moon. and they said after the blood is shed you have to close your eyes. don’t look at her. don’t challenge the spirits. she challenged the spirits and look at her now. malbousa a’ouzou billah. she’s the devil’s bride. and the men came. with a tambourine and a tabla and a flute and a mangour. and they wore long emerald gallabeyyas with red sashes at their waists. and turban-like scarves around their heads. and their kohl-rimmed eyes were like pools of black oil. and SHE. she whispered something. a prayer or an invocation or a spell. poured a handful of powdered incense over the red-hot coals in that incense burner in the corner. and the coals burned orange and the incense sizzled and the smoke curled up into the air. and the music began. doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and the kodia’s head was an erratic pendulum doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and the women swayed in a circle around the altar doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and the dervishes whirled and whirled doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and their finger cymbals clanged and the flute wailed and the possessed glided. manic eyes. catatonic limbs. beautiful ghost with a face of skin and bones. and i remembered i remembered how we used to climb that mango tree in my grandmother’s garden and jump over the fence to the neighbor’s side and pick her red roses and run like devils were chasing us and i remembered her this girl this demon girl always quiet always quieter than the rest of us always shy and i remembered how one time we’d made her cry told her her brother was retarded and i remembered how one time we’d made her lie told her to run home and tell her mother salma had fallen off a tree and broken her leg but there was a woman. a woman in black. she held the sacrificial rooster by the wings. grabbed the poor creature so he couldn’t even flutter. and she whirled and whirled and whirled. and the rooster whirled like a weathervane. and the music whirled into the night doom tikka tik doom tikka tik doom tikka tik and there were heads that whirled to the rhythm and there were scarves that swirled around shoulders and there was hair that bounced in the air and there was a voice that howled at the moon and there were eyes that rolled back in their sockets and there was spume that spattered from mouths and there were words mumbled in strange tongues and there was a woman who twitched like a snake on the ground and the circle of dancers bubbled like lava and the possessed was lost in the crowd but a wave of dancers ebbed and there she was thin fragile pale. chest heaving. head rolling. black curls twisting. twisting in the air and the voices said somebody support her somebody catch her before she falls and they hovered and reached and pulled back. and the darawish reached up emerald-clad arms and removed their headdresses and their hair fell in gleaming tresses cascading sheets of midnight black and long locks whirled and whirled and whirled and an agonized scream cut the air and the possessed that one with the demons the one we’d played with as children she crumbled to the ground and the music stopped. and the night was silent. and there was an awkward air. in auntie rosa’s courtyard there was an awkward air. and the sacrifice was brought to the kodia. and there was squawking squawking godawful squawking. and SHE. she slipped a knife out of her brass belt. slid it across the rooster’s neck. swift and bold. and the bird jerked once. and the sacrificial blood flowed crimson red on the white marble floor. and they lifted the possessed. brought her to the brew. dipped her hands into it. guided them to her face her hair her body. and the stench of acrid sweat and oxidizing blood hung in the air like a tumid shroud. and they sprinkled her face with rosewater mayya mayya mayya mayya mayya bismillah bismillah bismillah and she opened her kohl-streaked eyes and let out a scream. a scream that made the blood simmer in our bones. and a lady screamed. screamed a scream from the depths of her womb. screamed a mother’s scream and said oh my child why won’t they let you be? and the women rushed to the mother’s side. the mother of the devil’s bride. god help you. allah ma’aki they said. and under their breath they muttered god protect us from all evil. a’ouzou billah min al shaytan al rajeem. and they held up their palms to ward off the spirits. and the mother said when will my child be freed from these demons? must she die so they can be satisfied? and SHE. she said only god in his infinite power can free her. the sacrifice will satisfy the lust of the demons. but the power belongs to god and him alone. and the mother choked. choked on her sobs and said where is he? nothing is working. not the doctors or the psychologists or the sheikhs or the priests. not the bible or the qur’an or the bedouin incantations. my beautiful daughter is dying and where is god. why does he disappear when i beg his help? why is he deaf to a mother’s prayers? and the women said don’t lose your faith. god will deliver her. this is his promise. just believe in his power and your daughter will be spared. but the mother rolled her head up to the heavens. raked her desperate fingernails over her face. looked out at the invincible darkness. and said. i don’t know what to believe anymore.

paper tigers

"Étude pour Les Fleurs du Mal"

by Leonor Fini

it’s always the same story

they love me so long as i lie

spill aromatic words

from forked tongue

they love me so long as i say

            things that make them feel

            it’s all about me me me

            me it’s all about me

they love me so long as

they can hear it and smile

but when i start to speak the truth

            they stop smiling

            and start snarling

i offer my hand

            and they tear off a finger

i offer my heart

            and they suck out the blood

they say i talk too much

            and never make sense

and they shear off my lips

and toss them to the wind

sever my head

and send it rolling

down shadowed woods

and they feast on their favorite bits

i leap into O’s of fire

trying to save what’s left of me

dreaming of finding my missing crown

but they chase after me

            and i fumble and stumble

                        in the dark

is it the eyes on my back

they want next?

i’ve lost my shoes

and my stockings

o they’re torn

by nettles and thorns

and i fall

            but churches too have fallen

and so did hercules and damocles

and the one-eyed cyclops and achilles

i touch my eyes first

then smooth the tangles in my hair

then kiss my own lips

            with my lipless mouth

beauty's antithesis

something happens in a moment

before you have a chance to think

before you have a chance to figure it out

a suspension of time

a presentiment of the inevitable

it beats you to the finish line…

you’re sitting in your car

you’ve just taken a sip of your espresso

and you tilt your head

cock your arm just a bit

to set down the cup in its holder

the light is still red

and you’re waiting for it to turn green

there’s a grocery list in your bag

a list of things you need

to cook. and wash. and clean.

and the guy in the car in front of you

the first in a row of cars waiting

he tilts his head too

just for the splittest second

so he can talk to the woman beside him

his wife. or his mother.

or his daughter. or his friend.

just a flicker of eye contact

while they’re chatting about

their kids. or her cholesterol.

or her homework. or her new curtains.

and you see the light turn green

and you see him see it too

and you watch his head jerk back slightly

as he releases the brake

and you hear it before you see it

the splash of crunching metal

and you watch as the truck speeds away

leaving a cloud of rubble in its trail

but the car in front of you is still there

though it’s not quite in front of you anymore

it’s kind of tilted at an angle

               if you could see angles

‘cause it’s not really a car anymore

and you see the droplets

deep crimson and shiny

dripping like a random shower

pooling like lonesome rain

a little here and a little there

and you know…

your hand clamps over your mouth

in disbelief

and the tears prick your eyes

in revulsion

and you close them

you close your eyes

without a second thought

because sometimes

you have to close your eyes

when you see people going off like sparkplugs

               you have to close your eyes

when you see minds going mad like carnival lights

              you have to close your eyes

when you see bodies expiring like street lights at dawn

              you have to close your eyes

you deny these realities access

to the sanctuary of your heart

you deny these windows eternity

upon the walls of your psyche

because twenty years from now

they will unfold like a massacre in slow motion

while you’re rinsing an apple at your kitchen sink

or waiting for your tea kettle to whistle

you pull yourself away

and at that very moment

you are alone in this world

but there is a thought that won’t leave you

it clings like a circular saw to raw muscle

who allowed this to happen

this thought

sweetened

most wickedly

by

it could've been me

thank god it wasn’t me

and just for that moment

you’re a believer in god

you’re in cahoots with the lord

and you have that retrospective

unshakeable expectation that

you will always be delivered from evil

just until you pass that heap of debris

not without those tears in your eyes

the ones that never quite made it out

and your senses half-shut

‘cause you don’t want

how to say it?

any more stimuli

we are enraptured by beauty

it was the first sacrament

it was the original sin

and this sight…

someone is dead

but that list in your bag is calling

someone is dead

but you still have to cook. and wash. and clean.

someone is dead

and you’d better catch that light

you’d better catch it quick

              while it’s still green

hovering in uncertain geometries

"Falling Star" by Witold Pruszkowski

square room

empty space

wooden air

harsh geometry

softened

by fluid exhaustion

i cannot rest tonight

your absence glows in the dark

and there is no sky for me

but the stars fall inside me

and the key in my eyes

is a pandora that

unlocks the hallucinations

one full revolution

to release

one full cloud

of images and words that race

chasing coattails

tempting me to catch them

and assign them

to a particular coordinate point

your warmth was too easy

i needed an ice queen

to chill my soul

with her snowflake hair

and her frosty kisses

and her icy gaze

that pretend symmetry

you sit on the edge of my dreams

and your thoughts

bleed into my head like pigments

running one into the other

jagged lines

rippled by variance

starting everywhere

and going nowhere

i mistook kindness for love

but you unmasked me

            undressed me

and you joined that circle of scoffers

over there

with their scoffing mouths and their scoffing eyes

scoffing at my nakedness

i stumble in shame

there is no need for shame

oh but there is

you have unmasked me

            undressed me

and the circle of scoffers has abandoned me

and now i stand in nakedness
and now they scoff at me

i dream of crying

but the tears reject my eyes

i tremble

suspended in mid-air

like a bird caught

behind a glass window

not knowing where

the transparent rectangle ends

and the open sky begins

you have given me

the keys to a room with no doors

but there is a stale poem

beating like a drum

inside my head

and there are pale squares

where our pictures used to hang

on these unyielding walls

i will color the paleness blue

glide inside it

and fall into the racing sky

a cloud awaits

it is my ship

and in it i will sail

the unnavigated coordinates

of my heart

the atmosphere will bubble

and press upon you and smother you

sending your body in crying whispers

through space

and you will grope in the dark

seeking familiarity

and i will hear the ringing of bells

pounding against my skull

white-hot and ready to incinerate

like a violent flame

i must lay still and allow

i must allow

you must allow

this flame

this flame

to consume

the grieving ghosts will cry and dance

they will dance in the air for me

they will dance and cry

billowing their shrouds about them

in lamentation for the whispered one

i pray there is true water inside

this choppy sea of atmosphere and clouds

i pray a kind constellation will guide you

maybe

perhaps

to a particular coordinate point

where i can pretend i am a star

and twinkle forever in the sky

and twinkle forever in the sky

in a certain coordinate point

a point that will memorize me

a point that will remember me

light years after i have been extinguished

amidst the peals of the ringing bells

and the wails of the grieving ghosts

and the compulsive echo of your voice