transport
I tiptoed
I transport in the gallop of my sight.
I wrap the sections of my skin.
hug me wanting.
bless my flow, the jets that come from me.
rock me on my breast.
the hands of snow in the budding poetry.
complaint disclosure,
my recordings are on stone. My image went
water to thirsty
and bait network of fishermen.
the tolling of the bells I spend the evening
sculpting.
I sleep in my own shadow.
I wear my nature Bedouin
when I'm tired.
later in a garden
that I instigated against me.
I love my soul impossible
one whose feet are unknown to the earth.
"Amal Musa
0 comments:
Post a Comment