Places

Qateef, Saudi Arabia

Contributors: Raed Al-Jishi
Qateef, Saudi Arabia

« The Qateef settlement dates back to approximately 3500 B.C. and is well known for its traditional markets (suqs), such as its Fish Market. »

My kid is playing nearby

and he stuns me,

how he chooses my right breast

and sucks my age

till it swells.

I try to surprise him

with my left

but he squeezes the nipple...

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Surrounded by the walls of memory

with no lover

and nothing to remember

I mock

my triangular cuffs

and the illusion

of hands in a circle.

An iron cage of emotions...

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I am a Tuareg child.

My blue turban drowns me

in the waves of sadness,

then expels me

like seeds of ivory.

O! great Tin Hinan,

your brave knight

lost his way among...

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They vanished

like our palm trees.

Ancient open windows

and old dreams.

The city forgot their names

while they held its memory

in their soul

like a candle

...

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Their identikits are a mystery.

I couldn’t recognize them

by the reflection

of the wind

Nor by the sensors

On my blind stick.

They walked by me

with sympathy.

...
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The frozen water

in my eyes,

which was scratched

by a cat of time

is changing the spring

I desire,

my vinegary dreams,

and the songs that love me

into a one-...

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I cannot recognize myself

If I don’t wear me.

Faces are deceiving

without their masks,

like that bleeding

white gulf.

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The language of love

is spontaneous,like me,

like a painting of a child.

I used to draw my house

on the left side of the paper.

My house was so small,

neither doors nor...

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There is a holy spot

bher eyes

where angels burn their feathers

And lose their faith.

Do not blame me.

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I roll up.

I smoke the pulse of the minute.

I inject my hand

with heroin of love.

No one can shut me up.

My flying poems

hide themselves

in the pack of hearts,

...

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We have a modest tradition

of hospitality.

Our Arabian coffee

doesn’t need sugar

or cardamom

to be tasty or delightful

just like the smile

we serve

to those...

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Our cotton

didn’t take the sun’s side

anymore.

The wrung-out sweat

was not injected inside us

as if a shiver of a poem’s smoke.

We are the shaved-off sugar top

And the...

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