I hold memories of my mother
dearly
I tuck them away in
my woeful womb.
She says that men and women are at war
have always been at war.
Look at me
she says.
I look.
Look now
at your grandmother.
– Meysa Addeh
Toying with 26 letters
I hold memories of my mother
dearly
I tuck them away in
my woeful womb.
She says that men and women are at war
have always been at war.
Look at me
she says.
I look.
Look now
at your grandmother.
– Meysa Addeh
Like flirting with a cigarette, studying it
teasing it between these slender fingers.
Turning it this way
that way
and putting it out after one
measly puff.
You know,
before the cancer seeps in
like that.
– Meysa Addeh
my lover
he once told me
that he would like to be tattooed onto me
but between my ribs pounding with the octaves of his words
my skin delirious for his curious touch
and my mind
immersed with the thrill that he brought forth
I forgot to tell him
I forgot to tell him that I didn’t like tattoos
– Meysa Addeh
Poetry doesn’t belong to those who write it; it belongs those who need it.
Mario Ruoppolo