Death

Strawberry and Mint

Mr. K was a lovely man – and gay
Soon my love returns from holiday
We’ll spend our time together – alone
And walk about – on Saturday

A suicide note on his lowly bed
Says: “I have chosen Death instead”
I took it home and showed my love
We promised we’d never say what he had said

Now Mr. K’s heart was fire and coals
But life’s too hard for gentle souls
They’ll deny it but they killed him, yes
Turned his white angels to wicked trolls

I love her now and she has known
Since turned my lips from lime & stone
To strawberry jam and minty zest
Told her I loved her to the bone

Everyone says our love is wrong
Like Mr. K’s thin red ruffled thong
My love told me: “Be careful too!”
I said I had been all along

Now Mr. K’s chances didn’t long stay
He bet his life just yesterday
My love wonders: should we bet like him too?
That love like this don’t fly away?

I don’t know what to say to her
Don’t want us ending like Mr. K
Guess only the man himself would know
So, Mr. K, what do you say?

Mother, I’m a Thief

I needed a wooden box to store all
my leftover love; so I
stole one from my mother’s cabinets
which, incidentally, store her dresses from back when
her hair met her thighs
on every Cairo street
And fought with her shoulders
in cursed bedroom heat
My mother was the kind of pretty on the faces of assassins –
growing to life,
I stole her complexion;
and growing to walk,
I stole her black polka dot heels,
which extended me higher, up to her chest,
but never to her dreams –
because the second she first saw me,
I was already there:
I have “My Mother’s Greatest Dream” written
on my forehead
in the eyes of God.

This wooden box here I stole from my mother
is not the first thing I steal
a quick peak at my record would reveal –
a litany of crimes; I should be hanged.
But up there, hanging by the split skin of my neck,
I would not be able
To wipe my mother’s tears
should I have to, from her eyes
(which are mine – I have her eyes too)
And I know Death is an hardheaded fellow
who cares nothing for pleas; but please
not today, Death, not tonight
while her breaths still increase –

A mother from Egypt is a queen bee
who still does all the building work;
that’s why her cabinets are full
of kitchen utensils,
and clothes she bought – for my sisters and me;
That they will never use,
and neither will he!
But a mother worries, believes – and yet
Cares nothing for thieves; how else
Have I stolen so much from her
– from all the different cabinets of her life –
And never been punished?

And this, my last offense, a wooden box to steal;
And hide in all the greatest
I’ve ever owned to feel
I have a lot of love that needs to live longer
Than my loves have ever lived! – stowed away,
preserved whole, until the day
I unpack it; the only prayer I make
is that our life – ours, you and me –
is only starting;
timing is a bitch, darling
I know that better now –
and now isn’t the when my love needs
That, I’ll allow – but hey
I’m going for checkmate anyway
And my back never to bow
Today, with this wooden box with all my love-things inside
I figured out – how.

And After the Dying Sun

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again

There, in the distance, the ancient song
is nearing its final verse
after years innumerable, eons long
now there will be none, there will be none

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again

What comes after death? A trivial question
The answer means little now, there is no need
The dead don’t care for answers
The dead only know to die

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again

In moments there will be
none that has ever been, none that will become
The skin of the world is stretching thin
Soon we watch it burst from within

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again

What burns turns to ash
But what of what is erased?
Where does the obliterated go?
What becomes of us when it all burns?

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again

One last kiss, one last hurried embrace
Some even blunder and steal
Some, even now, still fall
for the familiar, for the human

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again

Horus, there, watches: helpless; and
Zues stands in the awe of it
Gods, too, are of the universe; and
when that dies, like us, they will fall

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again

We hold hands, it is near
The sky folds on itself and falls
It is difficult to imagine there being nothing
Even more difficult to imagine that …

The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again
The sun will never rise again.

The Garden Road

A lot of young men with a lot of guns

The cement floor is cold; and
still is; for the blood has dried.
The small pools crust along the ground;
with prints of military boots intact.

Here, in the garden road,
along this floor
we grow anger
we grow love, too; and
many a heart; sore.

I walk along the garden road; the road watered
with waters red; their blood
seems a river that cuts cement and stone.
Two fell there, now; three under my feet; and
in the distance; four
And resting here, in peaceful sleep
I find some more.
It has been long since their roar; like them
died away.

I crouch down beside him
His eyes frighten me
I see in them my own leaving; from
this tiny world; I continue my search
for it is not him.

The boy along the garden road
The boy with the tranquil face,
the military outfit that does not fit,
the hole through the heart, the half-loaded gun
he is not my son.