Teta Still mad im not fluent, stay mad teta, im mad too

YASMINE RUKIA

Visual by Sheikha Al Habshi (coffeeandcastoffs.com)

I tile the Mediterranean 

           with my fissured kitchen counter:

                              French damask from occupation 

                                       Dreamy Pisces azul from the sky 

                  the ink of a wet tulip petal perfuming my fingers

                                       the arabic word for banana is موزة

                                          the arabic word for wave is موجة

                             as a child I imagined on a Lebanese beach  

                                          a wave of Mario-kart peels 

                                   spraying the shore 

The Quran speaks of beauty 

                               In terms of good flavor 

                                         I boil root words in a طنجرة 

                         Stew over glottal stops & dry phonemic wheat

 The arabic word for salt is ملح

              I add shakes to the pot 

The arabic word for handsome is مليح

   but in pronunciation   

   my eloquence lacks 

   Ali's taste in  حَرَكَات   

I am swimming 

                  on a Stomach 

                              full of language 

                                   Smashed chickpeas & 

                                                     curly green parsley

          Triangles of pita       bread    keeping this                         afloat 

                               yellow sun pushing      its fiery spots at parliament

حبيبي يا  نور العين   

                                          in arabic   everything sounds like the last words 

                                                                    anyone would say

                                                 before being                lost                        at sea 

I close my eyes and            plug my nose with cherries 

  To dive deep into whale songs 

        Around me    

            the dead well   verse  

                                            pours from my lips:

                                  There is a barrier between them.

                                                              They do not transgress

          He has set free 

                                                     two seas meeting together.

Teta shakes her head 

                 at my clumsy tongue

                   The arabic word for sugar is سكر

        But I pour none into the afternoon tea

                                             Instead        I fill   my mouth      with morsels 

                                                                           ﺩ                                                   أ

                ﻱ                   ﻝ  

    ﻉ                          ﻡ                    ﻥ

               The arabic word for shut is سكير

And my words         on the shore  

                                                   become                      sandy   Turkish                            delight

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Yasmine Rukia is an Lebanese experimental poet and American shia short story writer from Dearborn, Michigan. Her work exploring the nexus of Arabesque America, the internet, and mastering two places at once can be found at the Gordon Square Review, Mizna, Cliterature, Jaffat Al-aqlam, Paper Mag, The Belt, The Black Warrior Review and Elsewhere. She is the current holder of the title: “Reigning meme queen of metro Detroit”.