As They Do

As They Do

Laala Kashef Algahta


Behind the ebony of our destruction
music plays in our ears,
your grassy eyes are soft
with tears,
vying for redemption.

Immerse yourself in my heart's azure
drink every drop
drink it dry

and find what it is
in that barren land
that keeps on

Before the ebony of our destruction
before you leave, as they do,
listen to the music in our ears
let it seep inside,
trust in hope

to stop my chocolate eyes
from sinking

or drink every drop
drink it dry.


She hides behind the shattered fragments
of that golden lily
eating the pollen to survive,
licking her fingertips.

They left her (as they do)
perched on the tip
of a tree-branch,
reaching for the ground

instead of the sky,
hunting for the feeling
of something solid
underneath her feet

instead of reaching high
and realizing dreams.

She curls around herself
(she is her own parenthesis)
enveloped in the emptiness
and a shattered lily blanket.


The smoke rising
from a stranger's abandoned cigarette
blurs your face. You are in remission,
making a slow retreat
after aggressively wracking through
my heart.

You place your blackened fingers
in the soft hollow
of feeling
where I swallow.
You shift your attention,
your mind in disarray.

The grassy green of your eyes
bleed and your iris is blank,
a white canvas
or a Chinese man's funeral robes.

You plug the emptiness
and I'm flooded
with warmth
(don't drink this,
lay me down to bathe).

You dissolve, as memories do.
Your name brushes past my lips
and rots, nestled, in my heart.