Conversations I Don't Partake in

Politicians scare me.
They stand on pedestals laden
with roses from corporations
I don't understand.

They make blanket statements,
promising hope, change, compromise,
and yet all I see
is increases in police brutality,
child sized coffins riddled with holes,
and stacks of green stuffing powerful pockets.

They tell us we have the power,
that we chose who's in their tower,
and yet I wonder if it's really choice
when you're choosing the lesser of two evils.

When I was young, I thought
leading was synonymous with love,
that to be a leader meant to inspire and protect your people...
and yet it seems the only of
your people
you love
are those bearing crosses or
scribbling your name on blank cheques.

Have you ever noticed
the colour of money is the colour of death?
Green means mould,
death
disaster,
and yet
it's the colour you see in your dreams
as you sip on our freedoms.

You keep saying you've grown,
that your country has flourished under your thumb
and yet the only growth I see
is coffins in the street,
guns cradling infants,
and families in need.

Politicians scare me.

They smile at the camera
as they sign death warrants
and organize disasters.
They utter promise of a new world
but never mention the new world
requires the destruction of our current.

I wonder when leader became synonymous with power.

#MeToo

#MeToo

for every time her hair wrapped my fingers,

and her body hugged the cold rim of the toilet,

because you decided

she wasn’t drunk enough.

#MeToo,

for all the accidental grazes,

the fake apologies,

and the knowing smile as my knees

press tighter together.

#MeToo

for every “I got home safe” text I’ve sent, every,

“is it too dark out?”, question I’ve asked.

#MeToo

for all the times my skin

crawled as your eyes

travelled my body,

uninvited.

#Metoo

for every dress code I’ve followed, every,

“your body is a shrine” comment I’ve heard,

and every time I’ve pulled down my skirt

because a stranger found my

skin uncomfortable.

#Me too

because boys will not

just be boys.

#Me Too

because there are men screaming with us.

#Me too

because sexual harassment

is      not   just   rape.

It is the consistent, suffocating,

powerlessness of having

a body that is not yours

a body that is not yours

my body is not yours.

Society's Body

Best Before

Our bodies are a kaleidoscope,

limbs entangled in damp silk,

hearts pulsing to the drum of now,

yesterday, today,

tomorrow.

“You’re so perfect” you breathe,

calluses tracing my veins,

oxygen filling my lungs, and I wonder

if you can feel the fractures

of my imperfections.

Our love is a precious metal

and I can’t find the polishing cloth,

sulfur tainting the shiny of our new

and I wonder when

I’ll no longer fit the width of your finger.

“You’re wonderful” you sigh,

and I hear the hands of the clock forget to keep count.

I watch the sun freeze mid waltz in the sky and I feel the pressure

of forever

wrapping its fingers around yours,

around mine.

Our bodies are a kaleidoscope,

limbs entangled in damp silk,

and I wonder if you’re tracing the corners

of my expiration date.

East Meets West

I used to live in a world

of freshly squeezed laundry,

Himalayan pink salt on Atlantic salmon,

and thermostatic, triple jet showers.

But now I live in a world

of re-worn t-shirts, mouldy

Cheerios in chipped bowls, and

sputtering streams of cold water in a rectangular box.

I used to live in a world nothing, but having everything.

Where you could have anything you wanted,

you never went hungry, and the internet

never turned off.

But now I live in a world of everything,

but having nothing. Where eyesight

is a luxury, textbooks an impossibility,

and gluttony a distant memory.

I used to live in a world of fantasy,

where everyone had only one job,

overtime was not the expectation,

and education and housing a public

and expected right.

But now I live in a world of reality,

where accounts are fined for being empty,

clothes are mocked for having holes,

and education and housing are an insurmountable

mass of anxiety and debt.

I used to believe in sleep,

but now I believe in bills.

I used to believe in authority,

but now I believe in corruption.

I used to believe in universities,

as a universe of support and accessible education,

but now I believe in greed:

a monster

that sits and takes everything, even when its victim,

already has nothing.

Noor al Quamru

Do you think the moon cries

for every star that dies?

I wonder how her tears taste:

if they’re hollow with memories,

or heavy with loss.

Do you think the sun mourns for

every hour she’s lost?

I wonder in the winter,

when the skies are black and days forgotten,

if she is ever frozen.

If I could hold them I would.

I would pluck each light from the sky

and let them decorate my skin

as I count their every colour.

I would dance along the embers of galaxies,

and surf across the corners of the milky way.

I would dress myself in each planet

until I was the lungs

of the universe,

and the veins of the world.