formication

a chain of people holding hands in Lebanon

–dozens of kilometers, I heard–

the book vendor’s voice as she elaborates on some Norwegian novel

–I never read it in the end–

his pink shirt smelling of a wooden wardrobe and Chanel

–it used to intensify toward his wrist–

people singing well on casting shows

–although I really do not care–

Snow Patrol on gravel-grounded morning walks

–sound and pulse and volume–

breathing in snow-pregnant winter air

–I could taste it when I was a kid–

the morning we began this list, high on caffeine and in love

–unlike you, the formication did return–

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jeopardy

you are jeopardy,

I am your candidate.

I seek the questions

to your answers

which may well be just a lie.

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boredom

lack of interest

weary, restless

perforation,

drill, a hole made

making tired

digging away

loose material –

the one I built

my life upon.

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Shakespeare’s vanishing anagram

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

All damp, I tease you. Shame’s tremor

hums ahead. I act a role, so play me

as you create hell’s metaphor.

I am a sad muse, teach me hope.

Come, I’m all yours, Master

My spasms harm as I rot.

Still, you are there

to hear my praise.

I compare thee

to a red rose,

I presume.

Please,

dare

me.

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New Look

after the treatment, some of it broke off.

for a while, my anger had been feeding

on my craving for attention.

the only thing left to do was bleach my hair.

I had handed my body over twice the night before.

the first smelled bad and wanted instructions.

the second said smart things, then wet my bed.

he jumped up at dawn.

I made scrambled eggs for him later that day.

the sun had risen under thickened clouds.

I left with his sheets.

my mattress was still soaked.

I went to the mall and there it was.

dignity converted into peroxide.

in a box that said: New Look.

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2020 Border Battles

(inspired by a sonnet form, arranging cut-outs from several reports on the “corona virus” and “migrant crisis” in March 2020)

 

In the battle, Europe has responded, discussing outer border closures,

Struggling with the influx and its screening,

As there’s confusion on the streets, regarding face-masks, meetings, and exposures;

The military build-ups gave new meaning,

 

To some ways which help communities combat, obeying social distances.

The border crisis calls for more fences,

All despite the several agreements that allow free movement without checks,

Water cannons and tear-gas will push back.

 

How dangerous is this virus, what are the symptoms and how are they detected?

As the crisis lasts, which European countries will be those worst affected?

Tell me, how many are, in fact, approved?

 

It might be a defeat for human rights,

But it’s a victory for the leaders that are braced: Together ahead, they move –

While children freeze to death in Syrian nights.

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Frankly,

I only texted you

out of the boredom

that came up in a spare minute

between leaving my home

and waiting for the shared malfunctioning

laundry machine to seize

spinning.

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The unlovables

I’ve been embracing you despite yourself,

in accurate defiance

of the peach hair on my neck,

against your will and maybe mine,

like unsweetened yoghurt,

yet less conducive to my guts.

I smelt your chest

in perfect congruence

with childish stubbornness

and in alignment with my craving

for the stale taste of

eternally unlovables.

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May be a reminder

maybe you never were

more than a reminder

of the  sugar cravings

I’d oppressed ever since

I was thirteen years old

 

maybe I never was

meant to pick her amber

hair off your cardigan

as you put too much fake

honey in my flat white

 

maybe my body was just not

ready to endure more

winter days in May

that seemed so cold to you

and awfully close to me

 

and surely it’s not you

who’s lying here right now

since you’re 8000 miles away

while I am in my childhood bed

again – clutching a hand that is not yours

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