Ozone Cafe

By Shams Alkamil

Is where I’ll wait for you

& the local Spiderman. I smoke double

apple hookah and I don’t eat

the eclair I want to eat. It’s been

zero years since the warzone.

Is that good enough? If not—

I’ll hold on longer.

 

Will you check the menu

before you come? Tripadvisor

must have a glitch—none

of the reviews are updated

& there’s a funky orange banner

atop the restaurant name—Travel

Notice. Maybe wait a minute

or two, refresh your page.

 

I’ll eat that eclair in the meantime,

write a poem about the strange

noises I’ve been hearing since

my flight landed. Matter of fact,

the flight itself was uncanny—funereal

stares & no baby made fickle

by changes in air pressure. Anyway—

I’ll hold on longer.

 

I’ll wait a smoke session’s

worth, another eclair,

a cat call or two.

 

I’ll wait a military resurgence,

a delay-action bomb,

a limb severed from its cartilage.

 

If you don’t come tonight,

 

have the waiter send your govt ID

to the table by the palm tree,

I’ll cross-reference your knee.

 

Turn my face toward the street.

Watch

the incessant crowd of bodies,

the tanks, a bit too heavy-handed,

trampling their corpses.

Around the corner, a boy awaits his demise

and like him—

I’ll hold on longer.

 

Shams Alkamil is a Sudanese Muslim poet. Her writing has appeared in Mizna, Kalahari Review, The Ana, and more. Her work has been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes.