Straight Outta Lebanon

By Bilal , Out Of School

You’re dad must be from Tripoli
and I’m getting notes of the mountain flex and fall
the stretch of sand before mum’s brow
the pillar and strength of an old tooth
silver centre coring the sun out of a building
under a mesh blanket of sky
stars a fish of serpent memory.

You are a meal of corners
there is a palate threaded branch on your family tree
when you speak I become
all the flavours
of home.