I buried your face, someplace

by the side of the new road

so I would not trip over it

every morning or on evening strolls 

still, I am helplessly drawn

to the scene of this crime

for fear of forgetting

the sum of your splendor 

then there’s also the rain

that loosens the soil

to reveal a bewitching feature

awash with emotion 

an eye, perhaps tender or

a pale, becalmed cheek

a mouth tight with reproach or

lips pursed in a deathless smile 

other times you are inscrutable

worse, is when I seem to lose you

and pick at the earth like a scab

frantic, and faithful, like a dog.

This poem was first published in Yahia Lababidi’s book “Fever Dreams”