My hometown rocks bombs made of paper and steel
It is equal parts pomegranate and salt water
Rummages through ashes of hopes and history
and tourists lined up for a view
My hometown weeps for steady soil and handshakes
Unbroken promises or steel embedded dreams
It is the dream of antiquated generations and
adolescents and sometimes
even me
My hometown’s rockets speak Russian
and whiz through Diaspora
It is a fingernail in the much larger
ocean of the universe
But it sticks on my lungs like the
labored breath of its shade
The smoke of Jaffa or the
symphony of sirens as the sun sets
on another week
Here
echoes are the only thing we can all agree on
The neutral nature of sound when it drips off tongues
Like the notes spoken when you ask if I’m Jewish
Upon my yes-
“It’s pretty fucked up what’s happening in Israel”
Word
But I am not the Gaza strip
Not the walls of women wailing as their houses are leveled
Not the dismantled boy whose healthcare
is on the other side of a checkpoint
I am more Rachel Corrie than the bulldozer
I am never the bulldozer
Or the soldier who’s only Arabic is “STOP or I’ll shoot”
I do not hold a PhD in conflict resolution
But I do know this
When my eyes roll back for sleep
there is a firework of a Tel Aviv
sunset burned on my resting corneas
Wholeness exists for me only in the
desert of the south
Or the shuk on a bustling Friday
Scents of roasted chick peas and
spiced teabags
Real and comfortable
like home
My hometown taught me how to coexist over
Arak in Ashkelon bars
Wake to shakshuka with sabras in hotel rooms
And worship stars for peace from bomb shelters
my students used as a library
in the Golan
So when I wake up at night
sweaty with nightmare
It is my hometown anthem pumping in my eardrums
Like the soundtrack of my own funeral
My hometown-
I
am
tethered to you
So please, for my sake,
Could you learn how to behave?
4.28.2009
4.21.2009
Day 21: Cocina
My lover and I are in the cocina with spices
While outside rain patters on
tin roofs and Subaru Outbacks
The soundtrack of our city
Seattle does not speak Spanglish
It is whiter than the tortilla he pulls
from the Mission package
to set on a pizza stone for flaming
These are when our embers were still lit and ignited
Fingers stained and dripping from tobasco and tomatoes
We stuffed our comfortable mouths as we
picnicked under covers
Licking leftovers from our lips
Too careless to turn down the heat
That was a year ago
I’m in a new city now
still learning to temper my taste buds
with avocado and cuervo
Learning how to tap uncapped Cayenne
instead of dousing with flame
Learning how to not down shots
until you’re a pile of Pico in a stranger's arms
Tasting it on my tongue a breath longer
Reverting back to recipes when needed
For these are just stories of the past too
Tasting onions and peppers cooked careful
Not charred until the smoke
heavy and hazed
sticks in your lungs for a whole year
I’ve now found the tablespoon
The glass measured, not guessed
I am not a woman of methodology
But I do believe that patterns can be broken
Recipes altered
And new afternoons birthed from the flame
of a single and subtle spark.
While outside rain patters on
tin roofs and Subaru Outbacks
The soundtrack of our city
Seattle does not speak Spanglish
It is whiter than the tortilla he pulls
from the Mission package
to set on a pizza stone for flaming
These are when our embers were still lit and ignited
Fingers stained and dripping from tobasco and tomatoes
We stuffed our comfortable mouths as we
picnicked under covers
Licking leftovers from our lips
Too careless to turn down the heat
That was a year ago
I’m in a new city now
still learning to temper my taste buds
with avocado and cuervo
Learning how to tap uncapped Cayenne
instead of dousing with flame
Learning how to not down shots
until you’re a pile of Pico in a stranger's arms
Tasting it on my tongue a breath longer
Reverting back to recipes when needed
For these are just stories of the past too
Tasting onions and peppers cooked careful
Not charred until the smoke
heavy and hazed
sticks in your lungs for a whole year
I’ve now found the tablespoon
The glass measured, not guessed
I am not a woman of methodology
But I do believe that patterns can be broken
Recipes altered
And new afternoons birthed from the flame
of a single and subtle spark.
4.20.2009
Day 20: Paradise.
In paradise there are no colors
We do not exist in hues or layers
The lion sleeps under the heaping plume of sky
And secrets only run blood deep
We are the savages
The jaws of rabid animals
Eaten and worn by the wanderings of our past
Now resurrected into present
I find you there
In the field built for choosing
You were the restless one
The naïve and tempted
Coaxed by wet palette promises
Perhaps the forbidden fruit was an orange
Burning her tongue the way acid does
A flame lit by saliva
Extinguished by our always
But we are the smokeless
We carry our lanterns late into the night
And tiptoe back into covers before morning
spotlights our sins
Before time makes another smoke cloud
of our skin and curves
Cradle us like saplings
But let us walk with our heads high and heavy
Find a cage
Then let us sever our way out of it
We are safer in enclosures than open spaces
Seduce us with immortality
then push us off bridges
Suffocate us with mud
We will break through the earth with guns blazing
Burning tigers ignited in your palm
Until the lion is extinct.
We do not exist in hues or layers
The lion sleeps under the heaping plume of sky
And secrets only run blood deep
We are the savages
The jaws of rabid animals
Eaten and worn by the wanderings of our past
Now resurrected into present
I find you there
In the field built for choosing
You were the restless one
The naïve and tempted
Coaxed by wet palette promises
Perhaps the forbidden fruit was an orange
Burning her tongue the way acid does
A flame lit by saliva
Extinguished by our always
But we are the smokeless
We carry our lanterns late into the night
And tiptoe back into covers before morning
spotlights our sins
Before time makes another smoke cloud
of our skin and curves
Cradle us like saplings
But let us walk with our heads high and heavy
Find a cage
Then let us sever our way out of it
We are safer in enclosures than open spaces
Seduce us with immortality
then push us off bridges
Suffocate us with mud
We will break through the earth with guns blazing
Burning tigers ignited in your palm
Until the lion is extinct.
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