Monday, November 28, 2011

this is my mother.

i have her hair, attitude, and lack of balance.

this is my father.

i have his nose, teeth, feet, and drive.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

dear girl

why do you only love boys who punch you in the mouth?
what does it say that every boy who has kissed you has hit you?
who forgot to tell you love doesn't have to be violent?

but honestly?
i blame your mother
how do girls go their whole lives
mistaking dependence for love?

who taught you that math?
how are you somehow less
than the sum of your parts?

two legs, open; one mouth,

you aren't dough, love, 
but i swear it,
he will try to beat you soft,
knead out all resistance, 
make you pliant 

you are not a weed,
but he will rip you up
your roots mean nothing to him

you are a math equation,
a recipe, a garden, a mountain
something beautiful
to be conquered

and believe me, love
he will, if you let him.

Friday, November 11, 2011

back home

in libya, the boy who gave me tissues when my nose bled mans a checkpoint. he has a gun and a sister. i think about him when i hear bullets.