2 September 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 3

Amman, 1997

The blood stain on the chair

in our bedroom at the four-star hotel

does not bother me.

I am too busy leaning out the window,

pressing into the heavy air, thick

with noise, where violent smells of spices

loosely hang

and moths dance drunk off the heat.

A woman sits on the ground smoothing