I can’t pretend
there’s beauty to exhume

from these slabs
concrete and sandstone

planted in the sand
funereal totems. I can’t

harmonise with the drill
fracturing the boulders

beneath the desert
puncturing the landscape

holes to insert
pillars as foundation

for incipient towers
towards a veritable

concrete forest. What
palm trees remain, inspire

the outline of the artificial
island, beach resort

to A-list celebrities. Camels
happy and humanised

logos on T-shirts
at the gargantuan mall

the largest in the world
outside of USA. Burger King

and co. don’t clash
but complement the Arabic

kitsch. I can’t conjure
my gifts (meager

as they are) enough
to resemble this reality

in an aesthetically refined
string of words: only this

beveled cluster
of clauses and the like

summoned by a Colossus
of a place called Dubai.