Arab Men I Have Loved in Passing
Ayman at the Dallas Fort Worth Froyo
lets his fingers linger in my palms
smiles a secret when he hands back my change
the Yemeni cashier at my gas station
notices when I have been gone too long
urges me to enjoy my cigarettes
the on-call doctor at urgent care
treats my asthma and tells me he
wants to marry a nice Arab girl
beautiful Ali who sang with me on the Jett bus
driving back to Amman from the Petra
it has been years and I remember still his skin
millions of men I have loved in passing
brothers and lovers who have seen me
called me sister, called me home
City Animals
a family of raccoons
checked into my garage
like it's the ritz
living in the penthouse attic
pushing their dexterous paws
against the door
like a key card
rifling the garbage can
like a mini bar
imagine
a do not disturb sign
on the raccoons' door knob
when i park
i am waiting
for one to drop on me
in a rabid daze
bite through my hoodie
latch against my skin
at the ER rabies is pretty serious
you pass bleeders
and the broken
pass choleric babies
and toddlers draped
in fatigue across father's lap
pass right into a room
where a nurse treats cuts
drops your pants
a needle in your butt cheek
the first of five treatments
i park on the street now
do not evict them
their squabbles carry
into my bedroom
we keep each other company
wait out the night
sleep easy and quiet
when day breaks.
Mejdulene B. Shomali is an Assistant Professor in Gender and Women's Studies at UMBC.