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Muted

By Zahraa’ Khaki I can hear you At the edge of my being Fluttering against a closed door A veil That your dying wings Cannot escape Still I breathe you in Muted Against the gossamer strangling you I press against

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Feel

By Zahraa’ Khaki I am made of you Neurons connected In the endless expanse of Divinity Exploding, dead, and free Wished upon and cursed Dervishes turned parasites whirling in crazed dance of self eat around our core Orbiting too fast,

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The H that stole your breath

by Zahraa’ Khaki   When I was a little girl When I first tasted and savored The drops of my name – fine wine on My untried tongue Trying feverishly to twine around The elusive notes of Me I learnt

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Too much

by Zahraa’ Khaki That’s what you’ve told me I feel too much I want too much I ask too much I thirst too much And I need to be Lagom Not too little Not too much ‘A-de-quate’ Let me satisfy

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The Living Swan

by Zahraa’ Khaki She whirled A demon dervish raising hell Black White feathers a soft death knell Crazed flight across the World Stage 12 fouettes 24, 36, 48 Diaphanous peals of clashing color-sound Green red yellow blue orange gray brown

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A Call for Submissions: Johannesburg in Poetry