This is from a chapbook of poetry I bought at a bookstore in Rabat, Morocco across the street from parliament. Moments after buying it, a labor protest broke out in the street, but we escaped unscathed!
Serpent Sky
by Mohammed Zuhayr
Two orphan moons in the Beirut night
in the harsh morning, a singular sun.
My will is of the galaxies
but your face is a barren planet.
How colorless, feeble I was
on the days of your resolve
no verdancy in your voice.
You returned my handshake
to pacify me with your wave of fire.
I wish to change your decree
to replace my ancient sun
with your serpent sky.
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