by on August 24, 2013 :: 0 comments

I die at dusk every day
on a rooftop in a city with no name
daughters unborn to me mourn
in bruised nights’ wombs
voices I do not recognize
utter prayers to deaf trees
shaking my limbs of their leaves

a city breathing heavy with its sins
buries me in its alleys
smell of jasmine and urine on its walls
where once I cut a vein and emptied
time’s venom under blinking neon lights
there’s no distance to my pain

I’m born at dawn every day
in a sac of daylight
with an appetite to eat moments in slow bites
roll them on a dry tongue
linger on the sweet and bitter
oozing from each tick tock shortening my life

I can’t remember where I loved you in between

It is dusk again
I look for the rooftop
I hung my fresh laundry on

editors note:

The night draws close, no vistas, so dark. Remember your love in the daylight as you take down the linens. – mh

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