How can I describe to you 

habibi, habibti

when I cannot explain

how coarse the surface of 

the word is, cracked, layered

by a millennia of use?

My hands struggle to lift the

weight of its world. 

I can say it’s what I called you

pressed against me at last 

week’s show

mimicking you at last 

month’s class last night 

as I cried when they 

closed the gate. 

I can say it’s what my dad will call you

when you come around,

what his father might’ve called you 

if he was with us. 

How should I 

describe you habibti?