translated from the Arabic by WN Herbert

Loneliness
is when there’s no-one to hand you a towel.
You have to get out of the shower wet.
Naked, you walk across
a carpet that absorbs you.
Cries drop from you like cherries,
like defeated princes,
ancient water.
You avoid the mirror
so your fat won’t bark at you.
You sit on the edge of the bed
upon a blind sheet.
You pick up a damp towel
and dry your heart.
You look at your feet:
your toenails are too long
and nobody told you
apart from the doorbell.