we were not anatomical

Poetry / meryem nuh

dancing     arum lily     turned     in
his     rich     gold     swathed     mouth
chewed     and     cursed
among     a     company     of     friends     who     breathed     in
ageless     dispositions.
drunken.
                    bruised.
                                      raw.
                                                drugs dissolving in carbon air.
time     h a s s t r e t c h e d l on g e r     since i broke
citrus juice into the belly of my palm in your bed two dawns and
an unremembered mist of forever ago.

la. ana la urid ay.

my hair a climbing bronze crown
of vines on a white wall       your back like a sheen of sweat over
civilization       my bombed train of thought like an
apology written over skeleton leaf       your moan like crushed crisp
white shirt hanging on a tight breast       we were like a photograph that questioned
the presence of god in history       amethyst is stuck in my throat.

my feet make stampedes in crowds of roses strewn across the pavement.

i find myself praying sometimes
in bold and tender reseconds
you must take the maroon curtains with you.

meryem nuh is a 20 y/o spanish sudani, living in india. she writes poetry about being black, being woman, being muslim, and the self. she is trying to make it through grad school without becoming a fugitive. her interests (obsessions) vary from cats to malcolm x. her work has appeared in vagabond city lit and squawk back, and she works as a writer for qahwa project, is the editor-in-chief at artrefurbish, and outreach director at vagabond city literary journal.