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Viscera

My arms ache/ in the cereal aisle.

Poetry | Poetry Tuesday, poetry
October 8, 2024

Little one
(صغيرتي)
there is mango
in your teeth
and you can’t bear it.
I reach in,
your mouth soft
and wet
as a mossy
cave,
pull out
an orange filament
and the howling
O
of your mouth
softens
into a smile.
Love of mine
(حبيبتي )
you can’t make it as far
as the corner store
without wanting to be picked up,
your chubby arms
outstretched
in supplication.
I lift you up,
four whole limbs,
two lungs,
a liver,
encased in unbroken
skin.
My arms ache
in the cereal aisle.
How far could you walk
if you had to?
Soul of mine
(روحي)
you drink so much water,
fall asleep
clutching your bottle,
wake up crying for more,
as if you knew that
somewhere
it had run out
and all they had left
was sea water.
Life of mine
(حياتي )
you came into the world
performing a magic trick:
One person, now two.
I held your heart
inside my body,
now I carry my own
in yours.
Eyes of mine
(عيوني )
will I ever look
at you
without
seeing
all
of
them?