Barzakh

You scrub from my throat the darkness that sticks to songs
traveling at the speed of light. The songs you play

are all I hear. With our morning
coffee and kitchen hours.
Gone are my industrial sorrows. I am back

to the blue Arabic note,
the astonishment of love
as an astonishment of loss
that shakes the world off its tail.

I am singing in the shower.
Are you with me?
Are we face-to-face
or spooning, swaying, swallowing, breathing

within lidless glass? Do we still give thanks
to the gas and electric power
that make space for our safe space?

We don’t think hope,
the only tyranny
we’ll never overthrow,
will ever run dry.