Photo credit: John-Mark Smith
A Tea Party with My Uncle
By Sara Houmani
This upcoming poem is a checklist..
of metaphors and inside jokes
that stopped being funny the third time
I told my therapist I was moles….
Skip Intro
A tea party.
with my uncle.
And an uninvited guest.
And a slimy starving serpent hiss.
And an infant army vest.
In the beginning was the word
and the word was No
and the chapter was hell No
and the whole goddamn book
as he finished,
as he finished pinpointing the plot holes
of the story of my childhood
with his finger licking’ good
was still a fuck No
It doesn’t take two to tango
No.
Fuck you.
One is more than enough to steal your spotlight
One minute
One minute you’re pouring him midnight from the teapot.
Next thing you know you ARE the Teapot
and he
is drinking alone
and he
is dancing alone
in your tutu,
your tutu that soon became your fatigue,
Fatigue literally means
a battledress
& ugh the biasness
a metaphor within a metaphor
a dream within a scheme
a green light within a red light
and a yellow light I didn’t bother to consider
as I fled the abyss
to the streets of no nation
still clutching
to the tablecloth
like a blanky that is 12 minutes late
to virtue
Elvis has left the building
This ship has sailed
The train has left the station
Every
Second
Counts
In Hell
& I’ve been running past this toy store
for the past 27 years now and
I’ve still not come to papa
The tablecloth had soon molted into an army tent
and I’ve been paying the rent
of my own asylum ever since
Don’t presume me dead just yet
I,
Am the fucking revenant
So before you go about digging for extents
of honey
in black holes
You must know
You must know I am an orbit of 4 million suns
YOU
can keep your
Torch
Do not talk to strangers they said
but find yourself a fucking hideout instead
every time you hear your uncle’s coming
for tea
because see, in his caffeine intolerant mind
the “T” Stands for “Thighs”.
Photo credit: Hakim El Haj
Better Perspective
By Sara Houmani
Oh I’m knockin’
On a door
Alright
But it sure
As hell
Ain’t heaven’s.
I locked
Myself out
My house
Again
Thinking
This time
I’ll get a
Better perspective
Of the home
I’m building
With another
I hope,
I just hope
That
By the time
He finds the keys
I’d have
Snapped out
Of you
For good.
Photo credit: Hadis Safari
Matchbox
By Sara Houmani
I will not bring
A child
That barely
Fits in my belly
Into a claustrophobic
Matchbox of a world
Nor Will I invite
Him
Into existence
Because I believe
Tiny feet
Walk further in life
Than I
Ever did in my
Lifetime altogether
I will not carry
A child
Inside
Just so my demons
Can be
Entertained
With surprise
First words
& Baby steps
On carpets
When I’m not paying
Attention.
Cause I have seen
What this world
Can do to you
When you’re little
So I will conceive
Grandfathers
& Grandmothers
Instead
So help me God
I am not one
For interviews
& Childhood,
Childhood is a
Job vacancy
I did not apply for
& Still got
Recruited.
Photo credit: Nina Sharabati
Marking My Territory
By Sara Houmani
In the matters of
the heart,
The mind
has no say
over what stays
& what gets deleted
but damn will it
Electrify
if the heart
comes anywhere
near them
Memories.
Mark your territory
grow a vein
& tie it to the ends
of your jaw
Send your traumas
out to the frontiers
Shoot to kill
if you must.
Cause we are nothing
we are nothing
if we don’t
Remember
we are molded,
folded,
outlined
& timelined
with tribute
& we owe
our stories
at least
this much.
Photo credit: Gaelle Marcel
Like a Hug
By Sara Houmani
“So why are you building A Campervan
Anyways?”
She asked innocently
As we rode my
Delta Tricycle
On our way back home.
I smiled
Not-so-innocently
As I kept my eyes
On the road
& Said: “For the End of the World.”
“I don’t understand”
She wondered.
“If all the Campervans
Ever built
Were placed end to end,
It would stretch
Around the world”
I explained.
She rested her cheekbone
On the back of my neck
& Suffocated my waist
With both of her hands,
“Like a Hug”, She murmured.
“Like a hug”, I rejoiced.
“Like a hug”
Photo credit: Rob Potter
Magic Trick
By Sara Houmani
You challenge me
To Arouse you
With a 3 word story
In exchange of Magic
I whisper
‘You arouse Me’
Tell a Man
He Can
& He’s all yours
To Juggle with.
Photo credit: Ahmed El Tayeb
Exorcism
By Sara Houmani
Exorcise
Them demons
Of mine
& Wear them for me
Like lace
As dark
As your intentions
For me tonight
You Sigh
in my direction
Once
& Oh the heavy breaths & The sweating
Like a french flower
At Dawn
in Versailles
“Arrosée” et “Interdite”.
Say her name
Instead of mine & Watch me
Reincarnate as Satan
& Slowly take them good deeds
Off
Like lace
As itchy
As your neck
Will be for scratching & Honey
I have a thing
for verticals
When it comes to drawing lines
And it just happens
That I don’t just draw
I SKETCH.
Photo credit: Dina Al Bayed
Oil
By Sara Houmani
The Only Supremacy
I will abide by
Is your upper Rim
Atop my own
Biting its way into
My lower
Esteem.
This territory
Is under siege
In the look for
Oil
And all you get
is Moisture
Pin your banner hands
Deeper into this dust
& Squeeze
the Extremities
& Mother Earth
Might just
Grace you
With Some
Honey.
Photo credit: Mathew Wiebe
Waltz
By Sara Houmani
You Put your words
In my Palm
Like Coins
In a Jukebox
As we
Waltz around
White Paper;
Who knew our
Dancing Pattern
Will be just as
White?
Or are we
really Over?
