But a dream-prayer clawing its way into corporeality

A curse cast to plunge the heads of every deathmaker onto the spikes as a reminder

A rebuke of the money-monger celebrities
who remain silently complicit as thousands of mothers let out

A guttural scream for the severed limbs & excavated hymns of the blessed children

A plea for justice
A song for peace
Sprouting from seed

“Bury Zionism under the rubble of my grief”
she says, as…

[the invocation eclipses into a tangible thing]

“The Nakba is over…”

Palestine is free

[the soft sun rises over Rafah]

‎ٱلْحَمْدُ لِلّٰهِ

“…alhamdulillah…”

From the river to the sea

The ship left the bay 10 years ago, bro. So why does this carve my arteries like a heartless severing? I dunno. I guess I’m broke in. Like a ******* hauling too many groceries. All the while this is what you’ve shown me: how shadow can be soft.

I’m sat by the river when the sunlight crests & the scalpel sneaks in.

Like an end-of-times film where the people we love simply disappear. Why am I so surprised? I don’t know. I guess I’ve spent another token. A naive kid in an arcade fantasy. But the neon gas burned out from the inside. Every vessel & every vein are collapsing, my guy.

& these poor lonely bones are forgotten—
just like the rain.

sheathe me in
vanilla heat
all musked up
& shower wet

roll me into
a fat blunt
draw in the
dank taste

c o m e
undone

take me back
ten turns around
the sun when
you were my life

i’ll kindly ask
a stranger to
ignite the spark
in my teeth

because i’m a
bergamot *****
torching this
nylon dream

you try to
rip my pith
from your
brain pits

but when you
pull back his
husk to take
in the oud . . .

the sillage of our
love is conjured
& suddenly we
are back in the
b  e  d  r  o  o  m
on joseph avenue

the projector whirs
a soft hum
while the film spins
into oblivion

a moment too soon
as the blade is ******
into the blooming
heart of the moon

meanwhile, it’s rock candy
hard edges with a crystalline
white-*** man proclaiming:

“the miracles of old, you know
they don’t happen anymore”

the crusty man &
a crowd of dim eyes
cry ten thousand tears
into the dying light
of hades flames
& the glamour of
gabriel’s smile

heaven & hell
intertwined like
*** on the shoreline

all dark
all light

split the bone
& make a wish
my limited sight
erased with a
silver kiss

The boy was flying high on spells woven through white lines. In the wingspan of nine hundred & twelve days, once forbidden things have RSVP’d…now they are

Knock
Knocking

***** out & draped on the couch—tarnishing every song ever sung.

“Curtis, did you remember to feed the dogs?”

His mind—crossfaded & fried. He tries to summarize with forty-three lies eclipsing the snap of his fragile spine. & then a small smile that breaks your heart for the millionth time.

“I luv you so
much
much”

He proclaims before taking ten men in a Motel 6.

& when the front door opens
& the keys hit the bowl
You're too tired for conflict
So you tuck it away

Besides…
The dogs are okay
You watch Curtis fall asleep
A good end to a sadder day

Can I get
some jas—
mine on my
tongue?

A delicate
thing to buffer
the poison—
ing.

Fill my lungs
with petals s—
oft.

Ring the doc—
tor. Call it
off.

Do not
resuscitate
The night—
shade.

Let her slum—
ber on the
eternal
gate.

Sweaty bodies spike volleyballs outside of the avocado. That’s when you strolled in with some sand in your toes. A few chance hellos & maybe a wave lost in the mist of a crowd. But that wasn’t it.

Nor the platinum locks & black triangle pointing down with no birthday drink,
Nor the lack of sushi in a rooftop bar where strange girls tell us how perfect we are,
Nor the climbing onto your lap when we make out in your car,
Nor the deep-throat choke that went too far.

It was fast & it was fun with ladles of pre-*** but not enough love. Maybe if your heart had the right gland, you’d drip something meaningful into my cup.

& when the pouring rain collapsed the windshield, I witnessed hometown glory trampled by equestrian gold. & your touch was cold. But your homes have such stylish throw pillows.

Now you get your pills for *******. & your smile is a jackknife. While I’m down the hall listening to a young man from Venezuela who ran through the jungles of Panama so he could sit in a rooftop bar or make out with a boy in a car & not fear for his life.