Mou'sif (poème pathétique) (give me i'll give you #10)

for Ashraf Osman

there is no sound like the ripening of mud
against the tires of your bicycle

to melt your inner most will to climb
the hill behind your childhood home.

peculiar scents, familiarize your dysfunction
as a common feature among men of your gender

but to tell your father face-to-face
in the heat of this autumn humidity

would care too far the sensitivity
of family and war ridden, muddy slopes.