The Stranger

A stranger is born in my home.
He wears my clothes.
He arrives earlier than I do for dinner.
His hands are clean.
His eyes are sterilized.
His mouth is white
Like an aspirin.
And his memory
A clothesline.
He steals my shirts
And drops his shadow over the edge of my body.
I stand naked
And see his two halves:
My bleeding lips
And his eyes full of immigrant birds.
I am afraid of our similar love
For my country’s flowers and for foreign writers.
He is afraid
When I leave my coffee
Untouched
Until it grows cold.
I close my door and contemplate
A plastic rose in my bedroom.
And he shuts his heart
In order to hurt me.

الغريب

الغريب