Rub al Qali

Here in sacred spaces, these invaded places

where the last of you retracts

the lips of my soul, not once

did you read the cover to cover,

not once did you stop to take the time

to hold on and craving after craving,

the taxi driver past the gravestones

in the wadi, the gull as she shat

 a slap from the Lord of the Worlds

and Istanbul

might wake me from the sleep of prison.

Chain after chain encircled until finally

chin, nose, eyes were wrapped

into the blindness of bondage.

Did you know love that I bleached

every single uniform, took time to

clean the blinds? At last to collect you

from your airports and first class lounges

to brush aside these meaningless advances.

Here my heart lies listlessly

between creation and time

waiting alone until Paris closes,

until Morocco flashes her headlights

in the whore-light of dawn.