Malak Mattar, Untitled (detail), 2024, charcoal on paper
I Cannot Name Him
I know him by despair,
know his truck is the truck
that levels the trees I know him
late at night in bed, dark lake—
one great eye opening suddenly.
I awaken in the ink-fleck to the call
of my name and find no one there—
stuck breath, echoed third—
air static, staccato, disturbed.
Published:
| Online 2007

Kimberly Kolbe
Related Articles
Digging Up My Fathers
Poetry by Alessandro Vitali
Ars Poetica
Poetry by Issam Zineh
Myth
Poetry by Leila Chatti