Nasser Alsinan
Let’s Leave Home to Go to Another Home
Today the couch was missing one of its pillows.
The bird in the cage was hitting its feeble head
against the walls, as if to scream, as if to plead,
Please keep this cage locked.
Within the box that I am packing are the small
hands of my children, pointing at me from under
the shade, poured glasses, cigarette packets,
my grandmother’s soil, the conversation leaking
into the room, poison, my father’s prayer rug,
the dead still waiting to die, and I tell them, I tell
all of them, that I am staying here.
The bird in the cage was hitting its feeble head
against the walls, as if to scream, as if to plead,
Please keep this cage locked.
Within the box that I am packing are the small
hands of my children, pointing at me from under
the shade, poured glasses, cigarette packets,
my grandmother’s soil, the conversation leaking
into the room, poison, my father’s prayer rug,
the dead still waiting to die, and I tell them, I tell
all of them, that I am staying here.
Nasser Alsinan is from Qatif, Saudi Arabia. More of his writings can be found on his Twitter page @nasser_alsinan.