She picked pomegranates warm from the sun.
The stains on her gown, like blood on the bed sheets, have dried.
She walked on the glass we had broken.
Blood-let and pale she picks petals from flowers’ decay.
In the desert a serpent moon dies
Her hands are still frozen, the shadows aches in my chest.
Sanaa hosts a poetry form called Landay at toads. Couplets with 9 and 13 syllables
December 12, 2019