by leena aboutaleb
lilac trees as the merge between dimensions
how to untell time: the amount of earth in us. I uncoil time into a hymen, a hymn. margins of the universe: locating how far Ramallah’s air is from my body. what is theft but a lilac tree turning blue? I run in between gardens, stones with bullet-holes are the trick to defeat — I think I am invincible til I fall into bullet-rotted stones. the lilac kisses fajr awake & fajr wakes my mother, she coos into the land, breathes prayers onto their bodies green til they yield fertile. I wait. clean jeans and hot tea. the margins between the universe exist when I am grasping for Ramallah across water, wishing for a return into un/known. time is relative, cyclical. to return is to leave. to return is to come. source: my lover’s outstretched arms. the trick of time is to steal it, unwind its stomach into a moth. the bullet-rotted structures are different in Ramallah than Kuwait. the lilac trees are painted blue before they steal into gardens. source: al saber, lovingly sliced. to unwind time, I leave. I have stolen, like the lilac trees.
the elegy (iii); the sea:
persian warmth; the fish
suck on the metal rods you, a child, move to
lay along the corniche
١meaning grief ; حزن
they mistook you for alive
the morning of; your front, still warm
under your window
our old sea holding you.
we have not been home
in years.
your back, iced
frozen, mama said,
like california’s sea
٢ in ramallah, he crosses the threshold
passing jericho’s dead sea; you move to cairo
they see you, dead, in the garden
٣ static water; I douse you
with the hose in riyadh,
another old sea;
the whales are calling you
٤ if I speak
the elegy of your eyelashes;
I follow
your eyes
our eyes
in dream
leena aboutaleb is an egyptian palestinian who is made in between spaces. she is a graduate student at the george washington university, where she focuses on palestinian temporality and futurisms. she can be virtually located @leena.jpeg via Instagram.
BAHR // بحر 