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Wednesday, June 17, 2009

The Walls of the Neighbor's Home in Mansoor

Moist damp walls
and frivolous cats used to

run their long tails
in the slits
between the hinges
of the doors

Now the creepers

run the windows
where bullet cracks capture

the smeared drops of last breath

And cold gardens of pain linger

where some wished they could have blended
with the weeping soil

Now it is...

Then it had laughed
when the sun tickled

its belly to beautiful mornings

Those days the palms will tell you
knew stories

that could warm sniffling infants to sleep
for hours if their mothers wished…

Those days the street lamps glistened

to the hum of love-making coming
from the rooms

Nights, under leaves

where toes grasped grass
and released
under stars

pushing swings
sharing thoughts of


Then the walls stood strong

gathered us in
and guarded our thoughts
less they turn into sin...

Now they hide the hate
and remind

We no longer belong…