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.