Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Some Siwa Poetry

I have quite a few Siwa-inspired poems. I think I will have to include a new page on the blog for such at a later date. Once I am back from Siwa ( with more poems inshallah & a new video too). These two pieces of work stretch back to 2008.

Sticks of Pomegranate.

If I could take these sticks
from the raised hands of donkey driving boys
hold them high above the clattering carts
I could meld
into the evening shade
sipping tea from tiny cups.

I wouldn’t have to stir
if I could slip these
pomegranate sticks
this slipping ball of flame,

scoop -
its dissolving mass from the fractured sky,
the call to Ishaa would never come
nor- the Matrou bus outside El Sulieman draw.

Waiting for the ATM machine to be fixed.
August 2008. Siwa Oasis.

In this sleepy out of season oasis,
there is no need for hard currency,
few tourists pass this way,
and nobody in their right mind would
haggle a crossing to Bahariyya Oasis.

Beleaguered donkeys collapse in the shade
and locals, slumped undercover
over tiny cups of Liptons,
barter -
shares of the date harvest;
and schemes to get an off the road 4WD back on the desert track
for the encroaching season -

when currency will babble like the springs of Cleopatra and Fatnas;
fuzzy, grubby, curled old notes
pulled from the pouches of wannabe explorers
and folded
into gracious pockets of pristine white gallibayas.

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