by Reem Fayyad Abdel-Samad

At the edge of a lip
a kiss shivers

At the edge of a touch
passion burns

At the edge of a moment
decisions choke

Hesitation prevails
at the edge of anxiety

Destiny descends
at the edge of a decision

Agony is washed away
at the edge of a tear

At the edge of disappointment
hope blooms

At the edge of optimism
yesterday paves the way for today

And
At the edge of today
tomorrow awaits. . . .

by Reem Fayyad Abdel-Samad

The waves of longing take me by surprise
They wash me off the shores of yesterday
I look up to the sun of years
I see the face of a love crowned by wrinkles

I reach to touch cheeks engraved by tears
Pained by longing . . . tanned by moaning
The heart trembles . . .
Heartbeats trip
Thoughts fall away from the mind
My tongue is in knots
Words fail me
The sad face of yesterday’s love kills me
My fingers embrace its features
They bring back memories of love
They kiss them slowly
Dance with them . . . breathe them in
Search for an ecstasy that faded in a reality crowded with titles
They tell of love speak about the flavour of longing
About the innocence of a child, seared by the flames of separation
Abandoned by oblivion at the doorstep of today
To raise toasts of reminiscence
As lonely eyes stare . . .
at oceans of nostalgia

by Reem Fayyad Abdel-Samad

Two days
Three days
Four
The journey to day fourteen
A long long journey
Like waiting at midnight for a stranger to take us by surprise
May be,
Like a frightened person in the dark
With phasmophobia
They almost see a ghost about to choke them to death
Five days
Six days
Maybe he won’t come
May be
I bypassed the death zone
May be
He bypassed me on his way to someone else.
Wait!
The stranger still has time as
The road to day 14 remains
So long
And the arms of the clock conspire with the stranger against my
nerves
Their pulses laugh out loud cunningly
While staring at my loneliness
Between 4 walls
And 24 hours
And 14 days
And millions of thoughts
Reproducing in my mind
It pushes sleep off my bed of fatigue
Until it falls to the ground . . .
Smashing in the middle of the night
Seven days
Eight days
They said he normally arrives between day five and day seven
The heart is filled with ecstasy of hope
Yet the brain hits him with a bucket of cold water
“He might arrive on day 12 or even day 14!”
Eleven days
Twelve days
Thirteen days
Silence, silence, silence
Except for a pulsing clock on the wall
And a dripping faucet in the kitchen
And heart beats about to stop awaiting a stranger, that hasn’t
arrived despite the 14th day!

by Tim Dooley

There’s dancing

in Philadelphia PA
New York City too
don’t forget DC

dancing in the Plaza
the Avenue the Square

and here in the park
though it’s cold
there’s dancing

six–year old twins
a boy and a girl
dance for themselves
while their parents
sit back on the grass

there’s dancing
in the November sun

and words are dancing
between the two men
quietly discussing
a retreat from addiction

the halloumi
in my takeaway lunch
is squealing with delight

the pigeons
pivoting in formation
take part in the silent disco

a sullen man
sits in a golfcart
wearing a silly hat

he is not dancing

squirrels in gardens
who hang upsidedown
while raiding birdfeeders
are dancing

the dancers wear masks
saying VOTE or HOPE

inside the masks
they are smiling

or they are singing songs
about the cities
they love

they will dance into the night
and tomorrow
there will be work to be done

7.11.20