The best love poems are
about the possibility of flight,
the phases of the moon
the endless Arctic night, a ring found
in the melting snow in spring.

They are about a
chimera of lust,
the dust train tracks make
carrying refugees
to an uncertain future.

The suture that heals jagged
on the wrist,
the future fold of an origami hawk,
a sunray lifting the mist
surrounding shipwrecks.

About malfunctioning drones,
a religion that does not ask you to kneel,
a water skipper’s stone
skimming the surface
of the unknown.

Painting breaches
in a border wall,
where armies refuse to deploy,
a star in the Aquila constellation
named after a little boy.

– Donia Mounsef