with a fist of ink and a mouth of flowers

 

I dress myself,
in a manner that keeps women away from me,
cloaked in drapes of poetry,
scowled with a face of savagery,
most haven’t the patience,
to read that far to my flesh.

Thus, I spend most of my time,
with a fist of ink and a mouth of flowers.

Yes, I am uninterested,
perhaps trying to seduce myself.

-Wesam El dahabi

 

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