How
I yearn
To stretch my limbs
To the rhythm of the feast
Plump worms are having
Over my head
There are noises, if I listen
The standing up of hair
Teeth sawing on teeth
Then,
I let out a moan
I hear
Seepings
In that hole
Where I used to let my finger taste
The moist of an un-interrupted sex
Where roaches are feeling their way in, right now
My armpits are tight pressed
My legs pressed tight together
White, under a layer of worms,
As I lay here in my grave,
I hear raindrops
Green grass up above
Tiny shoots glitter beyond tiny drops of water ants scurry into the hole
I yearn
To roam
On the surface
Of my vulva
It’s a long wait
It’s a long wait
Wind
Whistles, teasing fronds of long-lived trees
Then, rushes into the under
Or
maybe it’s a snake I desire
To circle the neck
Fail the tits
Slip down below
Face-first into the hole
where I used to let my finger taste the moist of an un-interrupted sex
Or maybe it’s a snake I desire to slip face-first into the hole where I used to let my fingers taste the moist of an un-interrupted sex
.
Saghi Ghahraman
Finch & Bathurst Toronto 2003