Hands and feet between digits

Reality is an erasure · Track 13

I dreamt of being a word
They translated me into a number
shredding my Arabic into metaphysics,
pressing my remains
into mathematics.

I was a glorious epic
Subhan illi sawwar
I am not even news.

I had ten toes and fingers
How can that add up to a one
digit?

I had one head
full of hair, of Pokémon catching a Gruffalo
of birds, two sisters; and heroes for brothers.
My eyes – my mother’s pride
A sea bright with driftwoods and glass shards

Despite this you couldn’t lay me
in a word
We gave mathematics, not for you
to keep us outside of literature

From our cursive scripts
I call myself
a poem
Measure the meters of our numbers
We will haunt the length of your line

With four letters—

Gaza
I wanted to find the names of this anonymous city. In cafés, a Dr Marten’s shop, a bookshop, my neighbour and more. People that inspired me to write about and around them.