get still, little child
wide-eyed, clear-eyed little fool,
get still in this rubbish-outlined green walls
and hold tight to that vanilla ice-cream.
say yes, say yes, pretend you know the place
amidst the storm of the heartless humming of the city
be the nightingale, the eclipse and the one who waits,
get hurt, and cry.
get showered by the moonlight
while you’re dazed by Sexton’s poems
crack open those beautiful, virgin lips
in these smoky skies, no one will know the lies.
(photograph by: Intensive Beirut, Ziad Antar)