You kneel in prayer, stare
at the steely sky, the iron
stars, the nuclear indifference
of the space between galaxies.
Asmā stares from time to time at the horizon. How the morning pleases his mother, Asmā at this point in spring. The Tamarisk forest beginning at the edge of her village like a crown on the nearby mountain, and fading at the foot of another mountain. The exhilarating cold weather encouraging her work.Read More
“In a one… horse… o…pen…,” we carolers sang in harmony. With the slightest trace of a smile as he passed us, the officer reached the door at the other end of the car, yanked it open and just before exiting announced, “No candles” over the train’s din.Read More
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