Al Reem Al Nuaimi, The Gazelle

The Gazelle

Al Reem Al Nuaimi

my last name holds the soft whisper of midnight encounters and my first a river of musk and burnt oud from last night’s hunt on the outskirts of يبظوبا* when you told me that what the stars comment on in the grip of secrets is a blue lagoon of misery and i told you the only misery i know is his grip on my wrists that grey day in ةقراشلا. **

i think men grow up with plants and with visions of palm trees, oak, and a brown weeping willow, you said and i told you that i watched her weep in نامجع*** and listened to her empty her sorrow when she asked me to turn your youthful day into a poor night and now here we are in the middle of nowhere, miserable.

* Abu Dhabi ** Sharjah *** Ajman