sandman - Hanna Abi Akl

these four walls are not your home
this country is not your home
make the river cry
slam every door every way
reach for the sun with
burned tonsils—roar with a voice
to purge every island and
put out every forest fire
make the beam of life
the thread to tread on
lightly, sliding to
avoid the bounce of
life—the big hammer
look out for the demon the
big red-eyed monster
lurking in the shadows with
big hairy fiendish
hands unclipped finger
nails walking unnoticed in
shiny Tokyo
dump the scriptures and
go back to splashing
in puddles of faith
hope was never real
it was just lettered
on banners now taken down
from every store front
the bikers, greasy
repairmen will drop
their tools and machinery
and follow...lead the
way: make carrots sprout,

gingerbread houses appear
as you hop along
don’t forget the music as
you go: rock, jazz, classical
violin, sax as you go
a great tumbling in
your ears—sex for the senses
now wait. stop. don’t forget to
taste bread hot from the oven
searing like the flesh
after a good tan in the
noon sun in golden daylight
track back. go home wherever
that may be curl up
inside a tent or
sleep soundly on your
one-bedroom apartment floor
the sandman waits solemnly
for your eyes to shut
like the last door shut
behind you as you
enter and plot for
tomorrow in your slumber.