Quietude,for Gaza

Room,
  cradled in whistling
silhouettes
      of men,women
and children,who were
    once there

away from the awful
       silence,
     unlike, my heart,

far from exploding

The infestation

At the table,opposite her
   peering through the window
 at a city,routinely unengaged.


    The photographs on the walls,often,
made
me sweat.Blown into a crevasse
   of reality,they were challenges
to it.
Carefully vacuumed,as always
          the plate tilted,
and the food tasteless,i saw 

 a rat scurry across
     the kitchen floor,and towards
her nonchalant face i stared,

the nerve of her-
   
    She knew poison could 
slow me down,but love,love
     would kill me

Dirty books

But what sparkling,
  little boats

the

pages
   of pornographic outrage,
           would make-

 by and by that
     happen to stick together