tears will fall from your eyes beyond your control,
you'll hate to tear away from his touch for the first time in a month,
his voice will sound like the song of a canary,
and his smell will bring you back home,

but when you don't have to clutch your heart
because you don't feel your lungs collapsing,
or your breath stopping short in your throat,
or your veins flood with anger and shake your body,
you're on the right road.

his eyes will be safe-havens you turn away from,
and you'll want to embrace and hug him
because you never know when it will be the last time,

but
when he's walking away,
and you don't feel your feet trying to follow,
or your hands trying to grasp and hold him back,

know, he's already lost you;
know, he doesn't have all of you anymore
and you're gonna be okay, kid.

NR(2015)

i can not even write this
because it will be anti
american
unpatriotic
and an
insult to
the land
of freedom
i was born in.
I can not even write this
because I am the first
generation
daughter
child
born in
the land
of freedom.
I can not write this
because my abuela
will tell me that I am
lebanese
cuban
and i was
born in
the land of
freedom.
i can not even write this
because my Tio
who came to
America
at the age of 6
and had “adjustment”
issues will remind me that
I
Am
American.
Tio will tell me that
I
am privileged.
because I was
born in the
land of freedom.
Abuela will remind me
that CUBA is
dead.
Abuie will remind me
to hush about all things
Arabic and Lebanese
because I am
American
born in the
land of freedom.
She reminds to hush
about the black
eyes
that see past
this land to the past
of other places
that whisper
my name.
They remind me
that I am
American and
not a communist
not a terrorist
not a girl who
hears her name
sung in the winds
of other lands
which i have not
wandered.
Abuela reminds me
to not yearn for
white sandy beaches
with waves that break
on a rock laiden wall.
Abuie reminds me
to ignore the need
for hot sand
beneath my feet
and wafting smell
of foreign spices
that are
unknown
to those born
in the land of freedom.
In the land of
freedom?

i used to love the ocean
i used to be very good at swimming

the day i learned how to drown
made me love the ocean a little bit less

now the salty water will creep in
even god can't change the tides

my lungs will fill with blue
like they always do

and i will lie awash in waves
thinking it is the sky

New York blues,
I've been looking for you;
The way you make me stare
At someones shoes
Instead of their eyes.
New York blues.
The way you make silence feel
Golden.
New York blues.
The ways you make me nostalgic for people I have never met.
Blues, blues, blues
You make me want to throw away my culture
And forget what my mother taught me,
Make me want a high I've never tried;
You put the world at my fingertips
So shocking!
Lonely, lonely
New York blues.

I have a cold heart,
and whenever I try to
find a glimpse of
warmth I end up
setting it on fire.

A body
three times
renewed