Not with your tribe's spears i write for they are dull but with my nails words without walls Sister, For you i have inscribed Love-songs weaving the sun's rays to your latticed window . To tell me you accept The tribe's traditions and prescriptions is a concession to being buried alive The noble inch or two of tatoo over your skin shall curve a bottomless night into your flesh It pains me to see the tribe dwell in you sprawling in your college seat not unlike your grandmother who thought she was a lottery ticket won at home . A woman in her twenties sitting before some tent shrouded with robes and veils carrying the spindle but does not spin . To hear you talk about a cloak the clan's man bought for you ; to hear you boast about blue-blood the heirs and chip off the old oak tree . The Sheik's voice in your voice cancels you . Sister My kingdom does not claim dowries of cows and cattle thus the Tribe rejects me For you are their legitimate child I am the one disavowed You belong to lords of virgin lands I to seasons bleeding flames How long will they keep raping you on your wedding night?
Fawziyya Abu Khalid









