The August Rain
the sharp edge of your veil,
took away the August rain,
& a basket in the nose of my room.
what remains of the rain
comes to vomit the clouds
& nothing remains but the memory of dragons.
the sand married a pregnant seed.
&I packed in my head,
a shrub of agonies to pay the bride price.
when my hair pores rain like a guilty cloud,
I sieve away the August rain;
& make with my skin, anything far and wide.
————-
Transformation
I’m balancing between myself &Heaven
so that it can’t be naked again. strange
things shuffle on my face. &I ask myself,
how many songs can my lip spit before
it wrestles time into the curtain of the sky?
nobody knows that I’m a reflection of a
mother’s wrath. whenever the sun rolled
on the floor, I drew on its belly, all the
sins I made; heavier than exile of grief.
before, the Holiest is the spoilt. now, I’ve
not written a poem on grief. my room is bright;
my fear is lust. this morning, I lay on the
floor, sinking in my beauty &collecting
memories at a mango tree where we feed
a solid smoke; it is still clear in my eye.
I am not sure how it feels, but I was forced
to wear the veil of the sun. every time, I’ve
thought of living under the empty sight.
let my thoughts yield the basket of skeletons
&let them pluck the fruits of light.
————-
Paper Boots
I revved the star-spangled names
I carried on my head by giving my
mother a birthday gift, a box of
chocolates, watermelon &a strawberry.
algebraic equations I love to read,
& solving a simultaneous equation
by using a grieving method—a new way
to know that Flower is a county
where all the positive things become
the flood—what pictures in my vision
when someone calls the word love
instead of life.but love is life. and
the first time I breathed to define life,
I opened my chest, closed my eyes and
took my heart away from the sun.
I adored the sky, I rebuilt my abode,
I survived the days in water, I laughed
at the hell and killed my smile with what
reopened the door of pain,
I hang my life on my wall, I become
the morning breeze, I wear paper boots &enter
the cruel night without weighing the
the wickedness of its darkness—
I mean the song that detracts
my body into the blindness, where
all the air fights my bones and eat
my flesh, merciless. I name myself
beautiful, and sprinkle my tears into
a pool—there is a new beginning
in every drop of tears and my life
begin by knowing a rain could
resurrect a new life.
————-
Poems © Mubarak Said
Image: Cdd20 on Pixabay modified