A new poem by Ayesha Salman. The images are stark and the colours surreal. Please do comment so AS gets some feedback from the poetic-minded.
I am
Head sick splattered
I am like unused ink
searching the blue crow
yet to feast on half dead things
that square into me, fixing me in my place
Waxy faced crow arrives
Blowing a pink kiss to the sky
Where the wind will chop it up
Dizzily drinking up my words with it
Consuming the decay of the bits I shed
Water weight of this growing abyss
Fills me with wit
For a world I weave again
Then falter
And wait for the night
when the womb of sleep will fold me in
More poems by Ayesha can be found here and here. She has been published in the Smoke Magazine, UK; and regularly contributes to Jahane Rumi.
