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Ahmed Ajil

of

Amsterdam, Netherlands

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Dewdrops

by

Ahmed Ajil

Saturday: My fingertips led me to the mirror
Am I in love?
Saturday: I turned all the pages of the universe
Searching for you
Saturday: I dreamt of you
You are lying on your femininity
Saturday: I woke up at your feet, groping for the world’s tail
Saturday: I release you from the inkwell
Saturday: I drew you from the beginning of the line, then you slipped into Saturday
Saturday: I was measuring the muezzin’s voice with my arm
One Saturday, two Saturdays, three Saturdays
Seventy-two Saturdays dropped from Eve’s waist

* * *
( ( You are in my heart and no-one doesn’t knows you except your son Akhnaton
- and you disclose the secrets in your designs and your ability ) )
O Amenhotep
This is my prayer:
A fly rubs its legs together to give you redemption’s charge
Any distance you have covered, piercing a hole in the universe of chance
Every day, I clasp your sandals to my breast
And I awake as a glass of coffee

* * *
A boy and a girl and three doves jumping on the fence of my elementary school
Yesterday I dozed on the eyelashes of your left eye
I almost smelted like your silver
The next time
Send me with the day your hair ribbons
O night, o day, o early mornings
Eavesdropping on the whispering of the sparrows between the eyelids

* * *
My Dutch lover:
I shall not forget that you loved me until the last morsel of chips.
And you left the train crucified upon your door.

* * *
I ask permission from your Turkish servant: -
- I ask your mistress for help ...
I scream in your mouth: -
To wake me up
I plant my cutting in your night
We wake up the dragons
Like Persian cats my friend oozes from your skin
And my hands flee from me
Whenever I grasp something of the traces of the Messenger
It changes into a bull