The Atheists of Paris

When Novels Get High On Fire by Brett Stout

(I)

I had to push my hands away from each other

To push my eyebrows too

The darkness said

What do you hold onto son?

Why your tongue is black

Said the bird:

Because I looked at dirty water

Because we can’t remove the clouds

As we remove the mud

Because clouds are barren

They spit and maybe piss from above

And we can’t separate the dirty laundry

From our tears

Or leave the dead’s tears in their sheets

I had to push my eyes away from each other

To push my eyebrows too

Why are you are so pissed

Said the parrot

I can’t break up the no from the yes

There is some space here

But my heart and my mouth in one place

My heart and teeth in one place

In the same area, in the same hole

Work and support each other

(II)

The Black man said

I came from the jungle

The Russian man said

I came from snow

For me, I had no problem finding an answer

I came out — undoubtedly —

From the black sand

That I raised in my mouth

~Abbas Beydoun, trans. Maged Zaher