TWO POEMS BY NAOMI SHIHAB NYE

MORNING ABLUTIONS

Such luxury—
we select a cup.

What power, politics?
I am allowed
to leave my country
and return.

Dry ground cracks
in multiple patterns.

We have a house.
No one else moves in
while I am gone.

What about moving in
while we are still here?

A basket, a stack
of books, a list.

O Palestine! O Syria!

 

BELFAST


I’m attached to everything 

  things that aren’t mine 

places that aren’t mine 

   (nothing is mine) 

fingers feeling for a switch in the dark 

  knowing how a knob turns 

the click of the lock 

    attached to swerves   surprise