You are still alive
soft white darts fall from the sky
the sad runs through you like water
absorbent & without direction
somewhere a baby says your name
in a voice they’ve only learnt to use
this itself should be cause for the sad
to leave but you’re unholy in the way you
scoop butter on to toast
disregarding the outward appearance
you refuse to ugly cry
face static against walls
a balloon adamant
in wanting to be held
on trains you are an obsessive
observer of the way shoes flicker on
to the platform & leave
to an unknown destination
you do this to the people in your life too
how one second their presence is close
stifling as naked bodies on a beach
the next you are lying alone
in a bed surrounded only by sweat
the by-product of a nightmare
where your hands scrambled at the soil
surrounding an unnamed grave
as the offensive snow begins
to cover whole cities
Attempts to remove the object
a year before he dies the grandfather slices persimmons
for the girl which overcrowd the plate
like a godless thought of numerous crescent moons
in one sky the language between them
moves like confused currents
the girl has a particular aversion to foods beginning
with the letter p
potatoes peppers persimmons peas
a reason for this would help her understand why
she is the way she is
the grandfather insists the girl eat the slices
but he does not indicate how many would be
appropriate for her mouth to swallow
opposite the girl the grandmother slowly
eats a slice cradled in her hand
the movements of her chews carefully drawing out the flavour
the girl’s hesitancy to taste the fruit
indicates to the grandfather that the girl is in need
of more persuasion & the grandfather places
a single slice into the girl’s hand which she accepts
the language between them
moves like confused currents
the girl eats the slice though her tongue
attempts to remove the object from her mouth
she is aware if she chews quicker she will be
able to finish the fruit by way of swallowing
but knows that if she is seen
not eating she is likely to be offered another slice
she decides to chew continuously
on the small portion already in her mouth
while watching her grandmother reaching out for another
the muscle in her right arm well practiced in the movement
of reaching out & taking
Memoona Zahid is a British born Pakistani poet based in London. After graduating from Goldsmiths, she recently completed her MA in Poetry at UEA. She has been published in a variety of publications including Cusp, Pain, Anthropocene and bath magg.
