For Qays

after Faiz, Sauda

come walk with me
by the lake’s empty benches
tell me, dressed in roses

that we need some air.

the wound’s head has reached the heart–
there’s no use in sewing it or rubbing it with balm.

all the lovers have snuffed their lamps,
headed back over the broken paths.

said Sauda in madness:
what has passed, has passed.
We lovers who court calamity
deserve it all.



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