They will let you out through a dark corner,
after putting you in spaces you do not inhabit,
spaces you would never occupy.
They will let you out Mansir;
into a virtual space far from home.
They will let you out through a dark corner,
after putting you in spaces you do not inhabit,
spaces you would never occupy.
They will let you out Mansir;
into a virtual space far from home.
—for AM Mariam
Your thick thighs. Your full waist.
Your bright eyes. Your round face.—
That you walk around the streets,
Unashamed of the penetrating eyes,
Unafraid of words that hit hard as punch
Colossus vessels gazing without oars
over green-lit stencilled exiles
further from the sun
the cliff’s furrow
crowns birthing rockpools
nests of salt prisms
willow tendrils and hammered jade florets
struck with kindling and dew
Winter.
I hate to say the word.
Can only write it down.
It’s another name for nothingness,
this thing I fear.
I am not the voice of my generation
and yet, I am a voice of my generation
On our anniversary weekend
you decide to detour
by the house of an ex-fiancée
who determined years ago
that apart was best, an assessment
you dittoed, so the story goes.
She got into my rented car
And it felt the same.
It felt like the first time she ever sat beside me
As I put the car into drive.
We kissed before we got into the car
And held each other close.
Past closing time and a huddle of heads peer
down into a velvet drawstring bag, a game
.
of chance, a game of luck, a game of stones
to be bingo called, by prospect and by plot,
.
three women of generational difference
cast about inside for a new cleaned jewel,
It’s good to be
on the giving side of no.
When you think you’ve
had enough abuse,
it’s almost fun
to have something
somebody really needs
and to just say
no.