Satellite Poem by Fuad Rifka
Satellite
Hungry bodies
Not one wheat stalk.
Thirsty bodies,
Not even the whisper of water.
Naked bodies,
Not a single leaf on the fig tree.
Cold bodies,
Not a log in the hearth.
From the windows of the satellite:
Dust battering the stars.
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4/25/2024 12:56:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
