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.