BOUTHEINA
BOUGHNIM
Kumquat
She felt
splintered as a fractioned ray.
Kept
sinking as a far off, little boat, at bay…
The
breeze kept the glimmer in her heart…
And her
lungs billowed as they gulped
Air with
desire…
She
craved for kumquat.
She craved
the kick,
They say
vitamin c is good for the sick.
She
craved for kumquat
To see
his glowing face
With a
ginger haze…
I
I am an
eye filled to the brim,
A hot
tear nestled between both eyelids…
I am a
hushed wish,
A silent
sigh lost in a puff of wind…
I am an
over mined land,
The miner
never found the stone pined for…
I am a
ghost village;
I roam
with my wild wills with no damage…
I am what
I was never was meant to be,
Breeding
a lost love, eating up me….
Stuck
She is
stuck
As a
rotten fruit
Refusing
to drop─
A frantic
mouse
Caught
between a cat’s jaws─
A rusty
key wedged
Into the
door’s lockset─
A voice
whispers:
“Shake
the shackles off!”
But where
to go.
She not
decided yet…
The Sorrow Men
(Inspired
by T.S Eliot’s “The Hollow Man”)
We are
the sorrow men and women:
Time’s
scarecrows
To
frighten away those to come…
With an
invisible anchor tied around
Our
necks; gravity pulls us, drags us, entombs us…
We are
shipwrecked sailors floundering in foamy mist―
Wearing
thorny charms around their wrists.
We are
extinguished stars:
Black
holes clipped upon
The
infinite blank board…
We dwell
silent in grids
Glued to
our posts, unwelcome hosts…
We are
sparse chops of the endless Night,
Roaming
around in shops: dead dots…
Corona
Summer
never seemed so far;
Prayer’s
become the lonelier’s pandemicity−
Before
the spiralling pandemic,
Cases
pullulate like necrophilous insects…
The
swarming dead bodies,
Buried in
haste,
Amassed,
Dearly
repelled…
One thing
I know,
A million
octopus’ black ink
Besmear
only provisionally
The
endless ocean or sea…
Resilience
shall suck the ink
And we
shall dive into pristine waters again…
BOUTHEINA BOUGHNIM
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