Stuck in Sujud

I stick
to the carpet
in sujud
endlessly
pressing
my forehead
my palms
my knees
into gnarled
grey green
fibers
that leave little red marks
roseola carpet grain
on my skin

I watch
carpet strands
like curling
columns
of dingy polyester
magnified
by microscope eyes
milimeters
from their wooly tops

my fingers lie
beside my ears
wrists sore
neck sore
they’ve carried
the burden of too much weight
too long

my ears ring
with blood pooled
my brain
befuddled
by hyper-oxygenation

before long
I’ll be hearing
the heartthrob pulse
of daf and tambour
I’ll see
God
dancing among
the carpet pillars

immovable I am
but be not fooled
pious I am not

I wait
for my daughter
to get off of my back