winter solstice

i exhale
and move this city to its knees
steps are stronger
than most days
if you could feel my breath
in this brisk air
if you could feel the illuminating lights
of unhidden stars
see the majesty of steel corridors against the art of the skyline
touch my numb fingers which are always open
the depth of my silence
i swear you would understand the language of my spirit

fickle

12/11

raining in L.A.

it even precipitates in heaven

karma finds me

can't hide, she says

when in rome

so i took off my boots

walked a little steadier

on this crooked path

fine lines

blurry, so i walk between

staccato with a voice to kill

i'll sing til i'm heard

in stilettos with flats in my purse

you like it complicated, don't you?

down to earth high maintenance sweet bitch

a tease who puts out

graceful with a touch of gritty

don't-leave-go-stay-run-yes-stay-stay

all in a single breath

i'm here today

and i'm yours

tomorrow?

i am not guaranteed

checked out

summer moon

i recall new eyes

tippy toes

reach and fold

lay to rest a feeling of was

warm breeze

now half moons grace soft skin

shake it

walk tall

checked out

yea i know what's his face said you cared

but he doesn't know how you used to linger

and now how you go go go

west winds

someone will make you pause

no she'll make you stop

but i need the same

two plays

a beat too familiar

you got a soft side

glad to have been acquainted

sweet, sweet boy

i won't tug

in this game

of war

from favela to gritty cityscape
freckles and a rough tongue
taught me a better way to fall
head first,
heart to follow
providing comfort: my skin was always the wrong shade of brown,
unloved mestizo
never knew i could own a room
on my own accord
a smile and a sweet flow
called me a throwback to a different generation of women
because i made paella with real saffron,
stayed up late with a sign that read 'revolution in progress' on my door,
let you lay your head on my chest
rambling about women,
who couldn't make you pause.
we were lovers in a different life

strip

i, like my cheap heels on those gritty sidewalks, never stand a chance
transcendental miracles
i pray to saints i never knew i loved
winter beaches on fire
hands clenching three blue dahlias
an offer to shiva tonight
i wrote hundreds of your names in permanent marker
hair covered in soft yellow cotton i face east
i want to kiss the faces of strangers
magnificent sea, immaculate prison
beautiful ghetto on spiritual dirt
asked every god i know for there to be silence
with the hope that one remembered me
i called on ancestors and deities
lit incense and left fruit at your window
they could not hear me
godless city
i watched you burn

beautifully guarded
in armor the color of malagan sunsets

he wears it a bit prouder than the rest

and i will never let him know how i can undress

him but i choose to let him own the facade of strength

words off his tongue that i know have been articulated before

(she only knew

half assed love, wannabe emotions whispered between sheets, lust at 2 in the morning, never kisses at dusk, never watching light grace her face, never realizing how naked she was for him)

transparent as he spread himself thin

my fingers are never tight

and i never feel his pulse

calma

in a constant state of departure without having a destination. give me reason to unpack these heavy bags and i promise to stay a bit longer.

my city reborn

My city reborn. Opaque colors of graffiti that plastered walls like portraits—imagined that the spray-painted murals on 18th Street represented someone's truth. Clouds connect the skyline to the pavement. Horizonless metropolis. My city reborn. Because of a love affair with another. The brilliant ancestral sky of our homeland, where you sang um kalthoum from my grandmother’s rooftop. I think of your face. Green eyed, eyelashes women die for—someone would have made you a commodity in any place but there. Hands covered in ancient henna designs nonchalantly passed on. Young girls paint tattoos from American magazines, imagine blond hair against their dark features. But while we rejected tradition we always understood that beauty in it's purest form was to embrace: ink on faces, poetic tongues, drumbeats created to emulate the musical movement of our hips. At times I swear I smell the coals of taboon burning. Eyes close only to open with a gentle distance of realization. Burning leaves. Maybe even garbage. Not hand rolled bread layered with zataar. I never understood your language, but rarely lost in translation. Life in your eyes when almonds turned from white to brown. You no longer loved your husband. Gentle hand raising your sisters child. My city reborn from the love affair with a city that was not my own. Where you laid my grandfather to rest when the land was bare.

the pause between lies

broken french
cigarette and peppermint
i always enjoyed the way you never owned up to your bad habits
they didn't exist if i couldn't see them
my lips stay a bit longer with a goodbye you never knew was hitting you
my apologies, but i always exit with grace
you handled me with caution
but you got it wrong
all or none
so tired of some
the truth is i fell in love
with the city that nurtured you
and the music you birthed. my painting on the wall of your tiny new york apartment. your mother calls on my birthday every year, hope on the last syllable of each mention of your name
ode to the truest romance
because unfulfilled
what-ifs and possibilities
you asked if i remember that night (caught you off guard. touched the corner of your smile. those eyes with tears of laughter. those eyes
that stopped and lingered on me for the first time.)
habiby, i took it away once
don't make me steal the memory you grasp in the crevices of your mind.
harlem is too far away
and we are both staying still
ode to the truest romance
because you always loved me
in an unconventional kind of way
timing always off
i love yous always quick with sloppy kisses on cheeks
never in it
you had a woman. my earring snagged your scarf. my heels lifted to reach you for the first
and last time.