The leaves are blowing away
Up, up, and away they go.
Swish, swoosh, they go.
Like a dancing ballerina
Up, up and away they go
Way up , in the sky.
The trees standing there,
Their branches all bare.
The wind whistling throughout empty branches,
......
I wake up cold, I who
Prospered through dreams of heat
Wake to their residue,
Sweat, and a clinging sheet.
My flesh was its own shield:
Where it was gashed, it healed.
I grew as I explored
The body I could trust
......
They sent me a salwar kameez
&nb sp; peacock-blue,
& nbsp; and another
glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
&nbs p; points curling.
Candy-striped glass bangles
&n bsp; snapped, drew blood.
Like at school, fashions changed
&n bsp; in Pakistan -
......
They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.
Checking for pursuers.
......
Either peace or happiness,
let it enfold you
when I was a young man
I felt these things were
dumb, unsophisticated.
I had bad blood, a twisted
mind, a precarious
upbringing.
......
I relapsed today. Not in a drug way!
No!
Stop— it’s more complicated than that.
It’s okay, I’m fine,
I mean; why wouldn’t I be?
......
in Spring, we swell and pop
like buds on trees.
we burst in all directions,
a grenade under pressure
our debris lands in beds of dewy grass waiting patiently to incinerate.
this Spring we collect parts of the body like polished rocks on the river banks.
the hands, the mouth, and the tongue,
we are learning the ways they caress sweet words.
fruit trees blossom and so does the space behind our eyes.
......
As autumn whispers through the trees
A chill wraps me up in my memories
Muffled cries, shadows cast
Echoes f a close past.
The fallen leaves dance in twirling hues
Filling my heart with bittersweet blues
Each shuffling sound, a haunting call
A reminder of the rise and fall.
......
The last leaf of the tree
Never falls
Even when all rest
Are gone
But maybe I was wrong
And so it fell
Not with the wind—
But with a silent farewell.
An even thicker rind of bitter pith,
Estranged from the serenity that lies outside its comprehension.
For what resides within is a supple flesh dissonant to its confines,
Exuding a sweet nectar that remains clothed in the abstract.
But the bitter fruit thrives in its circumstances.
......