I forget, the night as it curls around
my mother,
Hajjar, had the boy been a snake,
it would have bitten you
& our home, a distant city of kings
mostly boys, & some other,
creature.

Here, I know language by movement,
quick, like I forget I’ve been thinking
about him & forever,
how he sheds of me.

To remember, I like trying
the words over in a different
language, the snake calls me
habibti,
though I am not one of yours & never
been had.

Majid, tells me about the two
country complex & how
soft
it is in between all the others,
easy, resting white.

When the boy is lengthy,
& it bites & the woman, a jar
for blood the mourning of,
how do you not tower &
how do you
smile
& say it,
right?