beyond the physicality of voice
something speaks to me and says
i'm still here. still here. do you remember

and i think to say
no, of course i don't
but the lie is strangled
inside my throat

beyond the embodied presence of words
is the ephemeral resonance of truth
gossamer sometimes
ephemeral (perhaps
or so we tell ourselves)
but real

and you are real
and i am real
and we are together

just like we have been

and yes, i do remember

and never let me tell you

and on
and on
and on
we stay


as springtime arrives
night draws me
closer into her atmosphere
further from the air of day
which breathes on me and
leaves me stifled with
too much conformity
too much intensity
too much expectation

and as we are together
night and i
i pray day to observe
how we sit with one another
how we talk without speaking
how the space between us unfolds
receiving without question
delivering without condition
without asking how or why


another unsent letter

Dear W.,

Sitting with you and others around a table, listening to you talk about the void inside your core, I felt the urge, for one moment, to reach out across that smooth field of solid wood, and touch your hand. The pain was so red in your proudly blue eyes. The hurt was so vivid, so electric, so bright. But that was my urge to deliver something… perhaps because it was something I too wanted delivered to me. After hours of being present with words… through silence… words… silence… I craved the tangibility of… oh, touch!

Do you want to know the truth, though? I am ever awkward in the presence of another’s giving. I am a fumbling mess when someone extends their gift-laden hands to me in offering. But then… when you looked me so fully in the face, so fully in the eyes, gripped my cold fingers between yours, stuttered as your tongue angled shyly over the rims of your lips, and said “Thank you, Nevine,” so shudderingly… how could I not receive?

What joy! What blood! What tremors of absolution! What communion, my friend!

Tonight, though my body is depleted, my spirit is full.




after our love…

there are nine gates to my body
the tenth is a secret door

i shape-shift into a shadow
a spectre on the floor

my love my love my love
this door this door this door
this air this wind this song
this floor this floor this floor

your mouth your throat your skin
my moans my flesh my bones

dance me, my love
dance me
sing me, my love

unlock me, my love

there are nine gates to my body
the tenth is a secret door