riyadh

the crown prince of saudi arabia woke at eleven. the smell of him painted the house of shadows, i knew him by the scent of him, coconut, sand, hashish, long fingers of perfume languidly trailing from his open bedroom door.

the crown prince of saudi arabia, voice of black smoke, reading arabic poetry on the long table, viscous tendrils of unknown words curling up to the grapevines, singing and twisting into the blue catalonian sky. 

the crown prince of saudi arabia had ethereal vision, squinting through marijuana haze to see the dancing ghosts in between the arching, creaking trees, their supernatural response to the wind pulling her fingers through their arboreal hair.

the crown prince of saudi arabia had glinting chocolate eyes, long elegant fingers that always clutched a camera, watching, witnessing, seeing through a dark glass screen, seeing skin, seeing bone, seeing soul. he watched with the heart of a child who still knew the breath of god, he watched with the mask of the executioner.

the crown prince of saudi arabia said it is terrible women cannot drive, that the earth is raped for our prosperity, but did you know in summertime the air above the desert shimmers, and we rest in the shade of the reverent palm trees and watch the swallows dip and fall. my nieces twirl and laugh in the sand and i gather them to me and together we make beautiful pictures. he smiled with a chipped front tooth, and his glinting chocolate eyes and raw child’s heart meant there was nothing to forgive.

in the kitchen i mixed flour and sugar, aniseed and cloves; the heat of the oven, the ritual of the priestess, and each of them paid their due: the prince of Kurdistan stood close and said delicious, the prince of Cuba bowed and preached light, the crown prince of Saudi Arabia grinned his broken-tooth grin and said nothing, but still black smoke lingered and coconut perfume curled around my waist.

in the house of shadows i left my door ajar, and as i let my robes fall from my shoulder i sensed sweet coconut, and though he would never let his elegant fingers brush against my breasts i knew the glinting eye was at the door, seeing, seeing, so i lay open to the seeing, i let him see my skin, i let him see my bones, i let him see my shadows, i let him see my ghosts. 

xx

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