City Without Water
War's end brings desert thirst, strange milk rites. A bloody kiss ignites…
Read more →Arranged beauty, a vanishing self. Silent guns in the corner reveal an ever-present, chilling threat.
I wake up early,
arrange the antique rugs from Beirut
change the flowers in the vase,
the window glass trembles
like the silent love,
everything remains in its place,
even the vanishing moon in her eyelashes.
I realise
everything is so beautiful,
I rearrange everything again,
nothing is now missing
except my name.
I see—
they stand in the corner,
quiet and unmoving,
as if they had always been there,
beside their loaded guns.