Their date palms were full of huge round dates
The fruit sticky and sugary in the courtyard
Their heavenly house somewhere in the capital
of heaven
Their house so stately and impressive
Why did the old one avoid it
Only meeting casually outside the house walls
Repetitive jovial anecdotes
People measure themselves by their architecture
the size of their house the make of their car
Some see themselves as thoroughbred
unlistening except for flattering
Never understanding the sweet flavor of the date
The absent dromadery
The blessed wood hidden under thick pastel paint
those three palms on each side of the courtyard
The etiquette hidden inside the pattern
A symmetry that destroys me until I am rebuilt
That never accepted me with heinous and prejudicial rejection
As if an oversized gallon of sweet juice
I could glimpse my older queen matriarch like figure
sharing something of the line if even a morsel
Yet the Older king would not visit this place we dwell
ignoring us and rolling onward far from us
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