Today's poem is by Rewa Zeinati

Here is where we kill         and give birth
       

Your hands are ordinary. A white metal band around your ring finger tells me you believe in that sort of thing. In the background my TV complains about the uprisings in ancient streets you’ve never seen. I use your language [to make a joke.] Then                 your mouth is my mouth.         I ask you all the questions in my head. In yours I wear nothing but lipstick. Maybe I send you a photo of [my] parted lips. Maybe I like a post of your son on his first day [of something.] You think I know nothing about your West. [I know more about it than you more about it than you I know more about it.] Your questions come back. I remember your hands. The band around your left ring finger. You never ask about my streets//the uprisings. I use your language [to feel] familiar.

Copyright © 2025 Rewa Zeinati All rights reserved
from Difficult
Diode Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission