Written by Amy El Zayaty 

““Umm el donia” gives no care for she veils herself in light…”


I am surrounded with and by essential oils of
You are living tenuously close to fear
by love of thrill;
and you are too young
to see Tripoli’s purple mist
low to the ground
as beaten tin boxes pollute your
Umm el donia gives no care
for she veils herself in light
and in the night
entices dogs to leave their young
lapping their tongues
as golden anklets thump.

Stray paws imprint dust on
busy streets
fighting for salty bits,
playing a roulette of life
between the smoggy exhaust of Mecca
that pollutes as pilgrimage

Together, oils of thrill and smoggy exhaust almost taste–
like books.
Fingerprints felt on the corners of pages
too young.


Orientally confined
is the East.
amid salt bits,
and anklets veiled
by purple mist.
Come home, says Arabia.
Fingerprints say,
“There, is home”.


We all taste
But too young
is when my fingerprints
felt pages.