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Nasser Alsinan

Rose Water Elegy

I stitch the sky at its tearing seams and pour sunlight into 

an urn. I leave it at the cemetery and go back to your 


house. No one is inside. I am waiting for you. Your coffee 

still stains the carpet. I steal the coins tucked between 


the couch cushions and head to the park. I throw your 

coins on grass patches, dirty fountains, old pillows, 


dirty fountains. I go back to your house and I see you 

waiting for me by the door. It smells like rose water. You 


hand me a basket of berries and I eat them all, staining my 

memory. I don’t want to leave but I have to leave 


to get you a gift. I get you your urn and I go back to your 

home. No one is inside. It smells like your home. I trip over 


the coffee-stained carpet and I break your urn, spilling 

sunlight on the floor like overflowing rose water. 


I am waiting for you. I’ll buy you another gift. 

I’ll tell you everything. I want to tell you everything.

image at breakfast - Nasser Alsinan.jpeg


Nasser Alsinan is from Qatif, Saudi Arabia. His work has been previously published in Barzakh, the literary magazine of the University of Albany, SUNY. More of his writings can be found on his Twitter page @nasser_alsinan.

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