TRANSLATED FROM ARABIC BY YASMINE HAJ
You dunked your black shirt in blood
then ran, in haste, towards genocide
you hung it on her nose
savouring its scent
dripping in her mouth
a soul
a day.
You draped her with your insight
and me with your sightlessness,
and when you wanted run, to take me away,
before the reservoir of souls ran out,
I didn’t run.