By Fadi Abu Deeb
The rain drizzles
Around her warm round belly
Her hand palms are a pond of water and light.
I kiss the walls of her hearth,
Wash my face in front of it/
And see visions.
She closes the curtain on me, and does not go
She sits before the wind, crooning
To convey to me the news of the roaring sea.
And I’m a bird,
About to be cured
From the ordeals of travelling.