don't worry

i'll write a book. my dad says i don't write because it's too easy, which is sort of true. but now i'm not writing just to irritate him. ha. *wags tongue* i'm a mostly good, better than average writer and i'll publish a book before i die. but for now, i'll just regurgitate stuff that i wrote way back when.

the first poem of this installation, is old, but certainly not the oldest you'll see. i stumbled on one that is too painful to post today. i'll save it for valentines. our 11 year anniversary. yeah, that's going to suck anyway. anyway. i wrote this during my sophmore year of college (2002?). i'm finding it hard to edit at the moment without allowing too much of my present pain to seep in. i'll work on it tonight or something. i did promise a before and after.

sultan

don’t hesitate-purgatory’s,
just make believe, isn’t it?
and heaven can’t be far from here,
i’d welcome a poor desert country.

love, we can run away from here,
won’t you meet me in Morocco?
drag your toes through the loose gravel,
craggy-earth’s labyrinth, dive in deep?

we can let the snake charmers charm us,
eat with our fingers beneath the palm trees,
we can allow the taste of saffron to linger.
is this the train to Tangier?

so, will i see you in the mosque at noon?
you can be the sultan of anything and
i will be a sufi, i’ll try my best to remember
god, not to cover my face and hands.

the sky will glow pink tonight, fire in Fez.
the stars will be a mosaic, mint leaves too.
maybe drink will obscure our impatience.
warm breath, Casablanca is waiting for us.

Allah has brought you to me.
tomorrow morning we’ll shed our clothes,
leave them in the streets of Marrakech,
dip our toes in the water and go home.

(c) celeste mylastname 2007