Sunday, 4 March 2018

Sunday Poem




This weeks Sunday poem, Fasting, is one of my own, and in hindsight I'm realising how often Sunflowers manage to sneak themselves into my poems.  





Fasting

When I showed Saima my engagement ring
she held it underneath her tongue. Her saliva seeping
behind the diamonds — Let it dry there.
I bought her a bunch of sunflowers
to say sorry. She lay them out in rows
on my naked back. Traced around the petals
with the edges of her teeth.

You’re going to have a husband
she spoke into my open mouth.
The ‘o’ of her lips pressed on mine.
I looked up Saima in my mother’s
Arabic name book — Fasting woman.
When I told her, she pointed to my ribs.
Wrote out a sentence with her fingers
Burnt into my skin
                             For you, I am starving.

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