BOUTHEINA BOUGHNIM
Ob-Scene
As I walk down
The oblong square
I glimpse my
friend coming my way…
Thrilled at her
sight,
My hand in my
coat’s pocket,
Itches, craves to
reach out to hers—
My arms get ready
to embrace her with a warm hug…
All stops in a
fraction of a sec.
Retracting with a
sob,
Readjusting the
mask,
I damned Covid
19,
The
anti-convivial plague;
Imposed distance
is obscene!
When I need…
When I need
tenderness,
I am surrounded
by droughts
As you disintegrate
into thin air…
When I need
affection
I only reach out
for
Ghosts’ cold hugs
and protection…
When I need a
touch, a smile,
A kiss on the
forefront,
I become a virgin
land
Waiting for an
ethereal tread…
When I need a
tear, on your cheek,
Shed for my own
sake,
Needless to shake
A Mary’s statue
that is fake…
The Shout
Twisted necks,
With appalled
eyes
And Hung dreams
swarmed like a flock of mating bird...
The lonesome
crowd stood listening
To foamy,
forbidding speeches….
They wait;
They have all
their time to waste…
With gasping
breath and dwindling faith,
Stout, at last,
they shall shout!
BOUTHEINA BOUGHNIM
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