Bizarre Memoirs
by RANIA HANI MOALLEM
I wonder if you still paint your
face with novel features at
sundown, if the lips you once
wore still split as untruths caress
your wits with new principles;
meant for a new season.
I never thought you would leave
permanent tokens behind your feet.
Lies, that’s all I remember,
as absurd words sprint deep
through unaligned recollections
each time your song plays
at the back of my mind.
Shame…
You were as gentle as a dove, alas
never held the wisdom of a real
serpent..
-I fled-