عودة إلى الحب // return to love
i am a passport; a blood orange. i want to sit in your back pocket; an imminent stain;
let’s make up (out) a border & call it a nation — PEEL ME OPEN
ya 7obbi, let the pith of me perfume your skin; Andalusian ancestor;
i want to exist with you in a time before bodies knew flight; knew paper
knew knew knew how to eat let’s kiss
& return to root. a rebirth. you are my land; unconquered & supple.
i touch you & i’m made of light; a sun; a celestial body of hope —
عودة من الحب // return from love
:: الإسم على مسمى :: i embody my name; an emotional comfort; a perceived home. i am overcome
by the feeling that i have written this poem before. time GLITCHES until i’m with you
& then it stretches. in it, a mirage nestled within the relics. a citrus peeled before its prime
embitters our tongue. let’s blame it on TIMELINES. split tongues. i do not know if
my name means i have come or gone; MIXED SIGNALS ya3ni.
عودة الحب // return of love
i keep hoping you will hold me different this time. love is a burial of fear.
but my palms sweat while i write this poem. i collect your things from the mausoleum
of my chest; archiving the future; leena and i discuss bell hooks while she paints
oranges — metaphor on metaphor; soon, this body of poems will RETURN TO SENDER;
for though we do not believe in nations, habibi, we all have an address —