Mournings (About A)
To See
The teller told me they were premonitions,
visions,
not my imagination.
A green velour couch.
A child with short chestnut hair
running
arms wide open
to the front door
to welcome you
home.
But
in time,
the couch becomes grey,
the child breaks into static,
and the hinges rust shut.
Easy
Playing cards, rolling paper and condoms
lined the bottom shelf behind the counter of the
all-night
convenience store.
In that exact order:
Playing cards, rolling paper, condoms
Adjacent to one another.
Underneath packets of cigarettes.
The other best sellers and
late-night buys.
I came in for slims,
to help me drink unassumingly.
Hiding behind the smoke,
I watched my two front teeth
turn a darker shade of brown.
Shara3 Al Haramiyye
I met a ghost the other day
in your gaze
of who you thought i was.
It would tell a different story
in another light.
Just another specter of assumptions
infiltrating this street of
slaughtered becomings.
We are all dead here
Longing for a resurrection (that will never come).
Romy Lynn
Romy Lynn is a text worker (copywriter, translator, editor). She is currently completing an MA in Anthropology (American University of Beirut), with an emphasis on kinship. She is also a dancer and has organized and participated in various dance projects in Lebanon.
