Lina Makdisi

I am rubbing the dark tan wool of your sweater on

your back, pressing the blades of your shoulder down

flat and you are kicking the dirt and saying that you will

not ever and cannot seem to find your grandfatherís

grave, that humor is important as a way to cope with

sadness, that you do not want to hurt me but that B.

is so pretty and J. makes the most beautiful sound

when she comes and L. can turn blackbirds into

bluebirds. Meanwhile I think I am supposed to

notice the shifting of the branches of leaves and how

there is no other way to describe a graveyard except

to say that it is refreshingly at peace with its stillness

but see to my right a sharp white flash and your face

like an old man who canít remember if he took his

medication.     Have you?     Taken your medication?

Lina Makdisi

Determined, I

                                             drag us across

                                             great thistle hills


people are all gone

from here

                              I think

               I am


               to get


In addition to the stylized

way you

                              lick my hand,


are my Motherís


                                             Is that

                              OK with





                              you are


                                             Does it have

to do with

the relation-

ship between

art and


               Oh wait, you

are expecting some-

                              thing like

                              you are expecting

                              me to respond

                              both orally and in


Must you say these things?


a piece of wet snow

I am


Lina Makdisi is from Berkeley, California. Her poetry, including "The OK", has been published in Ostranenie Magazine.

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