Dedicated to Ismail ibn Conner
The hill is covered with rabbit runs, their brown ears swiveling with the lengthening of the day; he is slightly ahead of her. She follows.
She says: When we stand at the sea, it is always like this. I fill up. You learn to speak.
He looks out. He is always looking out, writing a prayer.
We met in the bar. You shone like the sun, so bright my first husband went blind.
Later, kissing in the dark, the bulk of you like a warm stone. Your tongue was thick with dates, strong tea tasted only after sunset, the proper taste of a holy man.
Oh, little sister, your mouth was full of joy in the dark.
I would have covered you with a white shroud, the fire of your hair against my shoulder like petals dropped by the sea.
Up the hill, the rabbits are still running. I walk out, gingerly, my feet strangely firm on this rocky shore.