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.  


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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