From “The Suspended Ode”

Stop Remember Weep

               for the one I loved and the place we would meet

                            where the sands thin between al-Dakhool and Hawmal

Traces are still there at Toodih and Miqraa

             woven by the north wind and the south wind

The morning she left

              everyone saddled up by the acacia stand

                            while I cut bitter colocynth

My companions reined in their mounts

              don’t be a baby they said to me

                            take it like a man etcetera

But tears are my medicine

              so where in these ruins is a place I can cry

Weeping is what I do

              before this it was Umm Huwayrith

                            before that it was Rabab her neighbor at Ma’sal

When they stood up musk breathed out

              like an eastern breeze carrying the scent of cloves

So many fine days you had with them

             but especially that day at Juljul

That was the day I butchered my camel for the virgins

              they were very merry

                            loading shares into their saddles

They tossed the meat back and forth

              and the fat was like unraveling strands of  Damascene silk

Another day I went in to the howdah

              it was Unizah’s howdah

                               Damn you she shrieked

                                                           Get down or I’m walking

Then she simpered as the swaying howdah

              swayed us into each other’s arms

                            poet you’re chaffing my mount

                                          please go down please

Keep riding I said

             let go of the reins

                           don’t push me away from your musky fruit

You’re not the first one I’ve visited at dusk

               while she was big bellied and nursing

                            whom I helped to forget the newborn hung with amulets

When he cried behind her she turned one half to suckle

              but the other half

                             the one beneath me

                                           stayed where it was

Another day in back of the dunes she refused me

               and swore an oath she could not break

Enough my darling

              if you’re going to cut the cords then do it

                             but do it gently

Were you wrong about me

              my love for you is killing me

                           whatever you say is what my heart does

When your eyes well up arrows hit my heart

              I am like a camel submitting to slaughter

One night I crept past her brothers’ tents

              they would like to boast of killing me

                           and arrived at her chamber

The Pleiades flashed in the sky

              like gemstones in a whirling kilt

I went in

              she had taken off all her clothes

                           except her nightgown

So I took her out for a walk

               and she dragged a heavy skirt behind us

                            erasing our prints

We left her people’s camp

               and headed for the open desert

                             dim hollows and twisting sands

I pulled her down by her sidelocks

              she bent over me

                             slim hips and big ankles

She is lean and blazingly white

              taut-bellied

                            her breasts shine like a mirror

She turns and shows a smooth cheek

             a wary eye

                           this mother gazelle at Wajra

A shock of hair black as burnt wood

              thick and clustered

                           like a date palm heavy with fruit

She puts it up but it is still a wilderness

              some in braids some combed straight

A thin waist like the nose halter I put on my camel

              plump thighs like stalks of watered papyrus

She stretches out her fingers

             trimmed of meat like sandworms

                           or tamarisk toothpicks

At dusk she lights up the darkness

              radiant as a lone monk’s lantern

Love’s enemies spoke against you

              but I turned away from their counsels

Men put away the passions of youth

              but my heart still rages for you

When the night stretched out

             raising its rump and pushing forth its chest

                          I spoke to it

O you long  long night

              I want more light

                             a dawn without love is darkness on darkness

What a night

               as if its stars were anchored by ropes to Mount Yadhbul

As if the constellations

               suspended

                              were harnessed to hard stones

In the early mornings

             with the birds still in their aeries

                          I leapt on my short-haired thoroughbred

                                       faster than any beast in the desert

Revving up

              rushing down

                            reversing and racing

                                          speed in the form of an avalanche

A red charger

              saddle slipping from his back

                            running like smooth stones loosed in a downpour

He is feverishly thin

              and his neigh is the snorting of a kettle about to blow

He has the flanks of a gazelle

              the legs of an ostrich

                           the easy lope of a wolf

                                         a fox’s pounce

On any hunt the blood of the fastest prey

              stains his white chest like henna

We approached a herd of  wild oxen

              the ewes were like virgins

                            circling the idol of Dawaar in long trailing robes

He ran down a bull

              he ran down a ewe

                            he did not

                                        break a sweat

While he stood still in his saddle and reins

             my admiring eye would not stand still

Look at him

              your glance is never at rest

                            passing from perfection to perfection

My friend look at the lightning

              a pair of hands flickering

                             among the banked-up clouds

Its flash lights up

              like a hermit’s lamp when the oil tilts toward the wick

I watched it coming from Daarij and al-Udhayb

              I gauged its distance

                            it was still far far away

There was so much rain

             it fell to the right over Qatan

                          it fell to the left over al-Sitaar

                                       it even fell over Yadhbul

The water began running over Kutayfa

              slamming the Kanahbul trees’ faces to the ground

It passed over Mount Qanan

              sluicing the mountain goats from their mountain

It passed over Tayma’

              uprooting the date palms and smashing roofed houses

                            leaving only those built with stone

It was as if  Mount Thabeer

         under the storm’s first showers

                      was an old man wrapped in a woolen cloak

In the early mornings the summits of  Mujaymir

             wreathed with flood-scum

                          were like the whirl of a spindle

The great rains made the dead earth

             a Yemeni trader’s rainbow display

It was as if the songbirds singing in their hollows

             had drunk the first pressings of spiced wine

Or as if the legs of desert fauna

              drowned at the furthest flood-reaches

                            sticking up straight toward the sky

                                           were the waving green tops of wild onions