Legged Stones

[Rehmat]

By Iqbal Tamimi

The bed of defeat has always been feminine
Ever since the sky was within reach
a womb less pillow of Vanilla
Giving birth to scandals
The thorns took advantage.

Climbing the shoulders of the bare peach
Stealing the bride,
Whose perfume has never swung in the wind
The apple went mad
Glued his grief
to the fingers of his land.

Took off his desire
Shouted, cried
I’ve perfected banging water drums
Because my share of plight, is exactly as yours
Thought my teardrops
could quench the hatred fire.

We all perfected the game
Attacking the features of things
We dallied with the nails of our jailer
Who bought the East
sometimes with prayers.

Other times
With a convoy of female slaves
The knight of the mountains
Has been collecting our wounds
To sprinkle them on a heap of dew

Waited for a long time
Until the stones sprouted legs
Chasing the mud groom
Who tested the virginity of heavens
Bearing on the shoulders of his winter
His imported season.

Screamed.. His shirt
Rescue me please, from this cold body
My circle has been defeated by armies of frost
Chased by eagles of dust
Throw your body
Against the ink lorry

Drown your sorrow in a cup of coffee or..
Die standing up like a wall
Defend the thyme’s hymen
Defend a wagon.
Ready to load the victims of tremor

Fight for
Poems, honey flavored
Document your defeat ...if you choose
On a crying poem
For a lilac, became a naked martyr
While building a pavement, for the news.

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