short-handled-hoe / black-socked/ little man
digging dirt for fig trees
you stand
like a bull / suntanned / cursing the news
back-breaking
bloodshot
fingering toward the moon
you you / leave now
i’m growing meat
on these stone pits
and figs
peach juices run
down his dirty lips
sound-off / jibber- jabber
nonsense spit
like tobacco
chewed
go pick the koosa
and the mint
drive the kids
‘round the corner
square the lot
swerve up / down
the street
write cursive-curses
in Arabic on the concrete
Carvel-cones / vanilla bean
sticky / messy / sugary treats
back seat thrashing
cursing old man
foreign / distant / emptied old soul
never seems to know
that—
love conquers all
bad news
and tv shows.
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
A brief memory…a poem about my Cede today in honor of all the Palestinian Cede’s/grandfather’s everywhere.
– Keep the humanity alive. Never lose the ability to see the people in the face of the atrocities.
Free Palestine!
