War

I hold memories of my mother

dearly

I tuck them away in

my woeful womb.

She says that men and women are at war

have always been at war.

Look at me

she says.

I look.

Look now

at your grandmother.

– Meysa Addeh

Short-lived relationships

Like flirting with a cigarette, studying it

teasing it between these slender fingers.

Turning it this way

that way

and putting it out after one

measly puff.

You know,

before the cancer seeps in

like that.

– Meysa Addeh

my lover

he once told me

that he would like to be tattooed onto me

but between my ribs pounding with the octaves of his words

my skin delirious for his curious touch

and my mind

immersed with the thrill that he brought forth

I forgot to tell him

I forgot to tell him that I didn’t like tattoos

– Meysa Addeh

Poetry doesn’t belong to those who write it; it belongs those who need it.
Mario Ruoppolo