في رثاء شهوة الأمهات

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Elegy for the Desire of Mothers

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I’ll remember while I make my bed

and the beds of my two kids

and while I wipe one’s vomit off the floor

open a window to the dust in the road

and while I uproot weeds

from a pot that doesn’t grow roses

and read a recipe for the authentic mansaf

while I mend a white gown that little fingers punctured

and prepare winter’s budget

sniff a quilt for ammonia

while I flip through the six TV channels

looking for Tom and Jerry as commanded

while I search in my supermarket of a purse

for a forgotten pad

I’ll remember

While I bathe a body the size of a palm

remove green boogers from soft noses

untangle a hair that chocolate and lollipops

and apricot jam have invaded

while I read stories about dynamic ants and lazy lions

and migrant seals while I degum the sole of my shoe

and search for the best method to remove

oil stains while I bite my twenty nails

after a long hunt for scissors

I’ll remember

When a child touches me by mistake

in body parts that no longer function

when the faucet sprays me and Turkish soap

operas anoint me their loyal fan

when two hands pinch me under the table

in a restaurant and when I excavate

for living desires in children books

I’ll remember them all

mothers with jaundiced eyes

all at once spilling in front of me

Their dazzling thighs that plunder the house

their fleeting anger in certain times of the month

the excessive anxiety over the phone bill

and belly cramps of endless bloating

the absurd interpretation of dreams for little devils

the coffee cups ready for fortune-telling

the song of the blue skirt above the broad knee

the lips that ooze under pressure bites

large bras for bills and coins

forgotten aprons over round guts

and the nonstop stories of the lewd girls next door

Mothers with cut braids

and clay henna streaming over eyebrows

and dead desires