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Editor's note: Professor Mohja has a new Ramadan poem for us. She likes the lines of her poems to appear just so. Better click on the link bellow and read it on a wider page.
Come Ramadan, the Middle Eastern Muslim world
becomes a pig-headed fourteen-year-old
whom you’ve taken on a mountain hike
and he does nothing but listen to bad music
on loud headphones while, in purple streamers
behind his squandering back, the sun sets
Arab Ramadan is one big frat party, Gog and Magog
gorging all night and sleeping all day, snorting awake
for gargantuan tv glitz parades. It’s a mad shimmy
of shopping, keeping up with the Abdullahs,
Muslim capitalism’s finest huzzah, Meccan
carnivale, Fat Tuesday on Leilat al-Qadr
Ramadan’s purple streamers slide across the sky
over a hemisphere of fasters’ squandering eyes
