Shadows
Fall
from her eyelids,
she puckers clumsily
striations of a stone.
The black spot in her white
her mum praised as beauty.
Eye folds into a wink with syllable
efficiency. Rain blocks the light
through which sky breaks. Gather
stones under your feet, he says,
stand so the clouds know you are
coming. She has locked his voice
in her unvisited chamber. Only now
her belly looks up to her. Little hand
floating out of her navel. The walls
are walking, the same stone-paths
gasping under a pounding rain -
Sheikha
A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her work appears in a variety of
literary venues, most recent Pedestal Magazine, Abyss and Apex, Mobius, Fourth
and Sycamore, The Metaworker and elsewhere. More about her can be found at sheikha82.wordpress.com
Tags:
Poetry