Warraq

I can taste it, the dust in the air poignant, stagnant, choking, breathing, living dust. Laughter in warraq the smoke of trash burning, the bark of the dogs. Horns and donkies side by side somewhere, but here, just him and I. I can taste his sweat and he pulls my hair, hushed love above the dirt streets. No, alleys. It is an alley where the bawebs' children play. Women peddling fateer and sweets. Below, loud voices. But above the caucaphony hushed, quiet, hurried love. He pulls my hair, heavy lidded eyes. I love you, he says. Awy, awy, awy, I reply, hushed by lips and laughter in warraq. Hushed, sweet, sensitive love, I love you, he says. Awy, awy, I reply.


(c) Molly Elian 2007

Haters

Do they hate me cuz I'm fly, more higher than them?
Do they hate me cuz I'm covered, more beloved than them?
Do they hate me because I'm better, more lettered than them?
A scholar amongst peasants.
Speakin both languages,
doin double than them.

(c) Molly Elian 2007

Muddled Musings

muddled musings mixed
beneath a blanket
of blanketed snow.
confused but etched pristine
in crystals
on eyelashes,
thoughts kept for later thinking
to run down cheeks
in rivulets.
muddled in the darkness
of a breathy pre-dawn,
exhaled in clouds
as a dragon
guarding my treasured thoughts.

(c) Molly Elian 2007