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flights

 

for Fady Joudah


“By then doctors and poets//Would have found a cure for prayer” from After



you said that weekends were lonely


in a poem I once read


while watching a cauldron


bubble out toward the east


just before the sun


steals light from the wet sky


clouds fly out from Congress Street Bridge


you detailed muscles in a body


your language wounds like a ligature


tightening around my small heart


I write careful notes


I had never taken an anatomy lesson


smoke brews on the horizon like a concealed prayer


I wish I could ask you


if we can walk together from this


epoch to the next


like Darwish



forgetting to die






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