Ivory's dust

We eat the dust of the bourgeoisie
When it was just dirt, it was for us-
for our lungs our teeth,
our children's feet
hair and eyes.
But now the ivory towers reach to the skies,
to the place where ivory women will lay
half nude bodies catching the rays
of sun that no longer reach
the street below

So we will live in the ivory's shade
that surrounds their castles
that keeps them safe,
until they build moats to keep away
the very likes of us
Can they see us beneath, out on the street?
Do they know we are made of their tower's dust?

At bay

"Well, not today," I say over and over, pretending there is something I can't leave behind. And I lie to keep my ship at bay, to keep the sails lowered and the line to land. I lie to pretend that there's someone who wants me, who would miss me like I'd miss you.

Nothing is holding me here but this thread- that you'll cry out as I get on the plane "Wait! I want you after all!" Then I won't have to stay, because I'll finally have someone to hold onto in the dark, someone who will be here when I return. Someone who will hold my place in life and say I wasn't missing anything after all.

But I am missing something. I'm missing Israel and Palestine, and Africa and Columbia and everything these places could make me, just so I don't miss that last chance. But there's never just one chance, one idea. You say, "Get on" and I cling to you, because I can't imagine how I'd say good-bye.

And you would board the plane without looking back. You would send a postcard but never say you miss me. You will never let me hold you here. Foregoing life to stay at bay is easy. I have done it so long I forget how to sail.