Translation from Arabic Dr. Yousef Hanna | Palestine
By Fathi Muhadub| Tunisia
The storm enters
with sixty feet of dust and copper.
When she has nothing to eat,
Or a dead poet to dance with,
Or a magic lamp to take to the orphanage,
Then drives crazy
Crashes the rest of the nostalgia glass
Howls like a convoy of savannah wolves
Sparks her eyes in the garden
Hit the pistachio trees with a whip
Previous to her absurd disappearance,
She leaves her dark dress on the sofa…
Dead butterflies she collected from the widower’s album,
The mirage that was left by prayers in the air
Thus, she escapes beating a retreat to nowhere
And from the cracks of the dilapidated house,
The sweet scent of God is spurting.
Serenity appears in its brightly-colored ecclesiastical attire
Flapping its merciful wings nearby.
Oh, how annoying you are, Mother Storm.