Ari Banias

if there was a word for it.
when pushing down reason.
if more than a boy.
if shaking took care of it.
if cured by looking.
if no lemon juice to lighten the hair.
if another girl could step out of you, a shared one.          
if her face was loosened by salt.
if home was unjustly sunlight.
when the other way around was a mountain.
if light curtained it.
if less than.
if it dodged windows.
if maybe is the only thing enormous.
if less than a boy is a fruit.
if villages of light were pushed down inside you.
a sea of anotherness.
when the pronoun curtain.
if a ring undoes the hand.
when a zipper becomes impossible.
if a curtain behind the curtain.
if girl is less than lace.
if barely can pass for maybe.
if boy was covered in possible light.
if she stiffens when praised.
when salt was sung.
and a face was just a face.
if he bristles always at the name.
if nostalgia is a kind of blue light. 
if maybe could still be beautiful.
if right now is bandaged.
when even what didn’t happen happened.






This poem borrowed and chewed up language from three other poems of mine.