BLACK DESIGN
AHMAD ALMALLAH
I .
When the CT tech said to me, you are
lucky, I smiled. I said, you think. He said
nothing in return, and I got rolled out
of my luck to another affirmation. Yes,
I am lucky when the nights come quick,
when I gather the flock of my thoughts
beside me, when I close my eyes to keep
watch over them. Yes, tonight I am.
II.
You are lucky, the next day a neighbor
said it again. The thing I said was not
the same. The smile I made I began
to feel. Abrasions I thought is wording
gone a bit too harsh. How could they be
unkind to this streak of luck. Medical
records are usually harsh, not in their
affirmations. In the way of words they are.
III.
It was morning, I unlocked my bike
and went flying into the air. Luck
suddenly—thank God it is what it is.
Thank God I was able to dive into this
black design. Thank God for the wise
CT tech and the insight of neighbors:
of course abrasions can be turned to
affirmations. Of course we are all a bit
lucky, a bit unlucky, but mostly we are.
IV.
It does not end, does it? And just
when you think you are over all, over
disaster, someone reminds you: you are
you. Someone tells you that you need
to count the hours within the hours,
and remember the counting. Someone will
point at you with an index finger: slowly
the slab of flesh around bone comes close,
slowly you follow and with luck you go astray.
When the CT tech said to me, you are
lucky, I smiled. I said, you think. He said
nothing in return, and I got rolled out
of my luck to another affirmation. Yes,
I am lucky when the nights come quick,
when I gather the flock of my thoughts
beside me, when I close my eyes to keep
watch over them. Yes, tonight I am.
II.
You are lucky, the next day a neighbor
said it again. The thing I said was not
the same. The smile I made I began
to feel. Abrasions I thought is wording
gone a bit too harsh. How could they be
unkind to this streak of luck. Medical
records are usually harsh, not in their
affirmations. In the way of words they are.
III.
It was morning, I unlocked my bike
and went flying into the air. Luck
suddenly—thank God it is what it is.
Thank God I was able to dive into this
black design. Thank God for the wise
CT tech and the insight of neighbors:
of course abrasions can be turned to
affirmations. Of course we are all a bit
lucky, a bit unlucky, but mostly we are.
IV.
It does not end, does it? And just
when you think you are over all, over
disaster, someone reminds you: you are
you. Someone tells you that you need
to count the hours within the hours,
and remember the counting. Someone will
point at you with an index finger: slowly
the slab of flesh around bone comes close,
slowly you follow and with luck you go astray.
Originally from Bethlehem, Palestine, AHMAD ALMALLAH has been living in the US for the past 17 years. He is a poet and a scholar of Arabic literature. He has taught at Middlebury College and the University of Pennsylvania and is currently pursuing an MFA in poetry at Hunter College.