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Ghazal Over Waves

North we go. North by fishing boat, by plane, by truck, by hot air balloon. Look down at the waves.
Blue-violet North of shorter wavelengths, shorter attention span––call out / call out & wave.

M the monocle that is the sun, M the shape of waves, migrations, M of movement in miles of mothers of
ancestral mitochondria, M Maria leaving el Malecón, mascara running in waves.

My parents take bad photographs. The subject is too far or the mouth in mid-sentence. Wrong instant.
This one was overexposed, someone laughing, wide-mouthed laughter coming out in white waves.

My mother & father make a kind of janusface, she opens to the future grasses future
kisses & cocktails & opera glasses & evenings of buying furniture, tinsel waves

for the tree over here / he looks back over there, the over-there flutes, Palestine, over-there honey—
     In learning about the handpicked sweeter more wild more clean older
more sacred there of exiles, I was learning to love the back of his head, salt & pepper waves.

Bread was Wonder or rye, pan cubano or flat khubez. Water was miyah, mine, un vaso de agua.
Hunger & thirst, hunger & thirst, what game will you play through your hunger & thirst—in the wrecking wave.

A round cookie-tin now holds thimbles, needles, thread. Pick one up, it smells like sugar.
Flying over el Caribe the sea’s a quilt—drab chlorophyll honeydew islam green in warping waves.

Amberplastic pill bottles of holy water / Coconut rolled through the apartment collecting all bad
intent. I’m assembling the animal memory: hide of sheep, moth wings, organ pumping wine-dark waves.

Listen, the low-sound of her drawing the sign of the cross on her heels with a piece of azul.
Her heels click-click like typewriters, socks stamped blue, as she walks through el Malecón in a Manhattan heatwave.

It’s bad luck to stir soup with a fork; you’ll lose money with your purse on the floor; a dream of clothes
means death; don’t bring seashells in the house–––they bring in the sea–––they’ll pummel & pummel you anew in waves.

M para mar y mama, M Maria, Miriam, mija, M the middle age / middle sister, Marume is my most
intimate name, my marsupial my morbid herb o my I am so sick of beauty a morning sickness in waves.

    • Listen: Carolina Ebeid reciting Ghazal Over Waves

Carolina Ebeid

Carolina Ebeid's work appears widely in journals such as The Kenyon ReviewCrazyhorsejubilatColorado ReviewGulf CoastPoetry, among others ...

Please note that all 92Y regularly scheduled in-person programs are suspended.