the aftermath

your face haunts my every dream. I wake from the fragrance of your embrace to the scent of fire and weeping— to the wailing of flowing rivers, rivers of flowing blood. "And think not Allah to be heedless of what the unjust ones do. He only respites them to a day when their eyes shall be fixed… Continue reading the aftermath

the ways i knew you (on the death of a great man)

When I was five, I found you in the smiling curve of numbers.   I sat in the pale morning sunlight of a Sunday School classroom painted the yellow of tender summer peaches. The wind from the fan caressed my face in rounds, the buzzing gape of its mouth first turning this way then that,… Continue reading the ways i knew you (on the death of a great man)