by H. Gibrain
for Manal

Five minutes
at least five minutes she said
you can’t touch it before that

When I smell cardamom
carried by the winds from Canada
or the Sea of Galilee

Then I leave home
walk across the water
until I reach you

Returning days later
allowing enough time
to make sure its done

Drinking the years
this fenjan
crossroad to civilization

I have to leave now
but these cloths and skin
are yours

Bedouin deeply ensconced
made of sand and sun
our dust ground
aromatic