Raafat Hekmat, Syrian poet.
IN THE BATHROOM
Raafat Hekmat
In the bathroom,
I make sure the only window is shut
and plug the hole in the door
with a bit of cotton or chewing gum.
Then I undress,
with deep embarrassment and a visible trembling.
I hadn’t realized whose eyes
had come so near—
until I became utterly certain
that my body,
for ten years, perhaps more,
has been moving
within the range of some sniper,
or a shell, or a nearby explosion.