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  i make it

      so that that every place i live is my home so

  i put my bed on the wall closest to the window, always

  furthest from the door,                                       always

 i keep my window open,                                      always

except the one in this new place has been painted shut

and there is nothing sharp enough to chip away

at the thing that lacquers me vacuum-packed

 

heaviest in the morning man

of stone man of slip

man unable to lift

the limbs that spent the night settling

speak

remember my body when it leaves

 

a man on the street is trying to sell me something anything he can think of a rock pure gold a postage stamp a feather he says twenty shekel twenty shekel just twenty shekel and i wake up with red dots on my arms and legs. loose bed sheets. i think of jericho and i think of it again and i think of it again: a video on loop and i can’t get back to sleep.

 

those spiky little balls in mountain grass

splintered into your finger tips

now your wingspan ends sharp

 

sometimes i want to wake up early and be the bird that wins

sometimes i want to be the worm that says just five more minutes

 

Image: Gaza Landscape, 2025. Image credit: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.
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