By Fadi Abu Deeb

(Published originally in Inventory No.8, Princeton University)

From our hidden chamber, the nebula dissolved
and the sun revealed its mask of ordinariness
breaking through the window
The days took us back to a pre-Neptunian age
—
In front of me, you were spinning the strings
of wool and the enigmatic tales of childhood
I asked you about tomorrow
You smiled like God and said:
“What does that mean?
You always speak words I cannot understand!”1
—
Goodness me!
So it’s only me
consumed by the deception of time!