I can smell him on yellow T-shirts
see his face in bus tickets
and my first pay cheque
pranav’s credit card and big sun-glasses.
Thrown awake
find my phone my clammy hands had
somehow dialed that number.
This Number Has Been Temporarily Disconnected Please Tr... at
this point I cut it off. Hard
to describe the mild panic and
horror… shock
at what I’d done. Under cover of darkness
blankets and white bed sheets It comes
like sticky strings of memory spiders legs and spittle.
Camera flashes. In between waxing appointments
and birthday parties, breakfast lunch and dinner,
World Poverty and two different hair conditioners
he creeps slithers
into the fronts of my eyes
a niggling ache behind my right temple
a word stuck at the back of my throat
just below my voice box or even
that twisted knot on my grandmother’s face or
the hollow smile in my father’s
eyes
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8 comments:
I love the way you write.
Very nice Ayesha. So evocative.
Thank you! I love that you're still following the blog :D, and that you LIKE it!!
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Yes, Google reader makes it easy to follow blogs --- especially rarely updated ones.
Very mysterious. As detailed as this is, and as vivid and poignant as this is, I feel the reader needs to know just a little more...just a little.
I agree Holly. As I said, it's a first draft. It needs a lot of work. Though currently, I'm rather unsure what to do with it myself!
This poem is nicely written, especially for a rough draft. A lot of really great images here, evoking dread and lingering sadness.
I like "sticky strings of memory spiders legs and spittle" and "a word stuck at the back of my throat" in particular, very vivid.
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