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Let the words consume you (For Tasneem)
Of the poet sitting in the back of the room Of the host bringing you into the night. Of the mother of the child whose
Of the poet sitting in the back of the room Of the host bringing you into the night. Of the mother of the child whose
I am a feminist. I was born in Yemen I believe ISIS are America.
the things you expect me to pay for overtaxed tampons carcinogenic digestives asda branded tea a bottle of red wine my ancestors shackles skin
Mama said we’d have a better life, people who accepted our broken family and those who didn’t, didn’t care enough to speak behind our backs
What is underneath could be pretty, it could be ugly. My beauty is not for you to confirm. I won’t be beautiful for you, only
I am me, not you.I am me, not you.I am me, not you.I am me, not you.I am me, not you.I am me, not you.I
The preachers are playing Surat Yaseen, my body soaks into the chair as Sudais’s voice soothes me. I feel like it’s Yemen again, different building
I feel sick, It’s been 10 hours and 53 minutes since I ate a piece of toast. I am fuelled on coffee and energy drinks.
From homeless to CEO of a bank I travel from plane to plane Unable to be spent on any other place From the jar
It can stay there, I hate them.