i made a mosque in the mouth of

a white girl when i was seventeen

deserted myself to worship her

word already familiar with the violent

silences, or are they absences

that come after prayer

i snuck past her sleeping mother

climbed fences and crawled

through awning windows

prostrated onto her skin

as if it were velvetine janamaz

when she stopped leaving

the window unbolted

i’d stare at the mihrab of her pale back

through the only hole in the picket fence

my left eyeball is trapped

i walk around with one empty socket