i say
“rain does not fall upon one roof alone”
but
it slakes the roots of
the silk-cotton tree
whose coffin wood roots
are reft open
for the Aziza
who dwell in its cloak
they secrete
your papers
in hollowed out
burls
for when
Dhegdheer
outstrips her shadow
she
devours
ink-lings whole
when you speak of love
i say
“beauty is an empty calabash”
but your softer words
slip through
the demon’s jaws
and move me
to rapture
and yet
your poetry is a deceiver
you come with a cat
and call it a rabbit.
