How did Moses feel on Mount Abarim?

Inhale my pain; exhale half-truths. Imagine sitting

still at the edge of paradise while

those who broke your door last night

walk to God, kiss his thick lips

and wave at you like an ex-sexmate.

Slowly peel the bark of your mind

with the prophet's sweat until your heartbeat

becomes the busting breath of young girls

shedding their names on a monk's loins;

until you congealed into cerements of hope

as Canaan rips off her satin pants,

showing him the contours of her insides.

Imagine being stripped twice in a lifetime

while the rapists dance to your crossroad-moans.

These wellheads, pipelines and oilrigs reveal what

it means to be loved by foes;

nothing grows in the Niger delta anymore:

we breathe in soot and belch out slick,

so I know Moses, for I am

sitting still on the edge of paradise.