Distance Burnt
Ahmad Al-Khatat, Iraq
11 March 2023
Distance Burnt
After the drab rain, the
taste of honey dims into
a midnight cigarette. Like the
money we earn from distance burnt.
She says that she loves me, yet
she asks what’s my death date? As
if my heart is a forsaken bullet, above
the lifeless flower in the lighthouse.
Let’s face my depression or whatever
your noisy educated brain desires to name it.
I drank because I can’t strangle my crying-soul
–inside the leaking roofs of mental issues.
Immigrant Dream
My father was once an
immigrant dream,
he often struggled
to buy bottled water for us.
He taught me not to be a
slave to privileged people,
he trained me to be fierce
and speak about our country.
I attempted to whisper
through his deafness
“O father some people
are racists in exile”.
“O father some people
are the reason for why
immigrants, miserable,
and humans with a curse”.
I closed my eyes and my father
-faded away, went missing, and
absent for a lifetime. After! they
pulled on their trigger merciless.
Simple Orders
For me to be confident
I must adapt to my heart’s strength
For me to admire the blue sky,
I must displace the warplanes from
the dove’s wings of peace.
For me to smile to your face,
I must open my lyrical mouth and
kiss your rhyming lips.