Looking For Gold | Her Name

i turn the page for an

old beginning

kan ya makan

not all stories end that way

some end with

dunia

setting worlds at our feet listening so closely

as we weave ours like blankets

sewing ayam one after another

beads on a rosary

29

30

31

some stories don’t begin

some don’t have words to start

they grow on letters

one letter

they begin at the end

the last letter

let us be random

z

let us be more precise

e

let me choose

a

some stories don’t end

29 30 31

don’t come and between pages

you tell me stories of an old lover

kan ya makan

stories and songs

that leave you

beached/sewn together/mending holes with string

my palms ache

cupping the weight for so long

my bones break open

to hear you sing

and crescents are turning

and turning again

and all the while your echo

sadda for so long

holds my caress an inch away

from my strings and the song –

time is mine for telling

this is my time

i don’t want to carry her name i

don’t want to carry her name between my bones

her name crawling all over you

sand castles that stand in your memory

layers and layers of golden sand

layers and layers of dahab

a maze around your story

that ends with her name

mine smells of fadda

fadda between my breasts

loops in my ears

ankles adorned

my woman wrapped in silver –

i don’t want her to carry my name – so the story begins

the story i didn’t know was coming

wearing coral beads of the rosary i dropt

the string that tore and

every crimson ball rings so that

it all comes to me –

her story in the tides

her name and my hunger

my name and her time

and the patch on my blanket

empty

but for her name and mine

i wanted to stitch you/patchwork

drying from the salt

dyed with a new red

but my stories don’t go on

for more than a breath

and you are still beached

lying on dahab

still beached stretching your limbs in air

air

that carried us so well

air

laden with a winter breeze

air

without a balance –

a winter breeze and pining for awakenings

that come in wetness

till first lines surface

and pages are turned

while time breaks

i stitch and sew shreds together

bring the coral in circles again

tie letters of my name around me

sing prayers to cool the sun

and lick the wetness to save the damp –

to heave and push

until i come -

shriveled like fingers from water -

and you – no longer a stranger -

will wake from

sand to s/e/a