Yes, I remember
The night sounds of summer, 
Windows echoing the call to prayer,
Kids playing in the streets, 
Wind blowing our sheets, 
Curtains swaying to the beat, 
With too loud music from a party somewhere,
A wedding procession honking their horns,
The smell of hot falafel, 
Shrill sirens and voices, 
Hot words and hot scorns. 

We floated up through the ceiling 
Left the TV behind, 
Left the bed, left the room, 
With our bodies entwined, 
Left even those ridiculous hang-ups of mine. 
We shot through the roof and hung in midair,
The apartment, the city now distant,
A pale glare. 
We launched ourselves while fireworks
Burst in the air, 
A doomed flight from the beginning,
Careening over the castle walls 
A flash comet to nowhere. 

Now, 
I can only recall in the vaguest of ways
The feel and touch of your skin, 
The open mouth laugh,  
With your head thrown back, 
Or that sly and mischievous grin. 

The only thing you are to me 
Is what you used to be. 
Now, it’s easier to hold that thought.
Some memory lives are quite finite
And today you don’t fill me;
You are no longer enough. 

Karima Hoisan is a tri-national and has been writing poetry since she was 9-years-old. She is from Karak, Jordan.

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