Poetry

In a room

There’s a man in my arms.

In this sunlit room.

In the heart of my promises, in the fold of my hands.

Mother says I cannot love, that I burn everything I touch.

But here I am.

my body is ringing and he is dancing now.

I hate the music here but he says it will help.

It will make our bodies move better.

a fluidic energy he says

I nod and remember every time I danced.

How my waist moved in darkness

as the rising beats of the drum reminded me of magic.

of the men pushing their hands and necks.

and my silent protests that gets drowned in the drunkenness of an early night

In the early seconds of the morning I draw a sad breath.

and feel the tired moon that rests in my thighs.

an illuminating darkness

when I ran away from home, I left a burnt path.

the sun came to live in my chest

But there’s a man in my room now.

Whispering and trembling like a leaf under the wind.

Bowing to my goodness.

I will always remember that we are sighing.

bubbles of life.

we are not alone.

Selah

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