There to Here

From there, 
I once believed bullets could pierce the clouds, 
shatter the sky

Vinegar chips meld with a zaatar mankoushe, 
biting Wednesdays and chocolate croissants
Punctuated weeps,
"Mama, can we get ka’ak tonight?"

Behind the wheel, 
Baba immerses the dawn in Fayruz's melodies
The clock's hands trace his feet at 7 am -
He vanishes, 
leaving spectral substitutes

Turning 25, amto's greeting pierces, "He would've been your age, only if..." 
25 not 26, 
16, hear 
There is 16, 
here is 25

Friday night, 
2017, 
lips stabbed the darkness, 
hands entwined, 
and a whispered desire 
hung in the space 
between 
us and them
"I would've loved to take you out if you were here, 
not there.”

Only if—

Galaxies adorn her face, 
dots mapped into constellations
poking her cheek, Mama protests
Play dough texture, 
a link to the lord

"Where do babies come from?" "From there, not here."

Escape; 
let’s espace 

happiness seems to reside there
not here
Oh God, 
tighten your grip, 
break my neck, 

transcendence

I’m from there, not here

Unfold yourself in the top drawer, panic sets
This place, its hefty, 
its oppressive 
heaviness refuses to relent

Pretty faces gleam under the sun, my skin creases and bulges

"Suck in your stomach," they demand, 
but I can’t breathe

From there, not here, 
where girls wear shields beneath skirts, 
so ammo doesn’t touch you

"Stop crying," he commands, 
a slap punctuating the directive
Cigarette flame meets skin, 
tears adorn my lips, 
yet I point at the chocolate candy 

I want more.

Mama's cries are constant; 
a cup braided in my hair for asking why

From there, not here, 
where boys impose, 
knees stained, 
lips chapped
He pins and drowns, 
drools over my corpse, 
"Can I copy your homework?"

Disdain swells, 
skin that bulges and creases
Mama says I should lose a few inches, 
an arm or two
remove a rib, immerse it in sauce, add cumin and cardamom

From there, not here, 
Baba’s eyes morph into a haunting play, 
a ghastly display
The graze of his beard on my cheek, ritualistic kisses, handshakes, unwarranted familiarity

Here are pretty girls with itty bitty frames and fair skin
Silky hair and a reddish flare, 
here is where they dance and sing

From there, not here, 
where we dance sacred rituals in secluded rooms
winter afternoons, 
ethereal force, 
the very essence of existence

It feels like I’ve slumbered through the years, 
this place, 
it tastes rancid

From there, not here,
I wish I was from here, not there.