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Sanah Ahsan

october

entered an almost-ready lung. Made a summer of
hot blur and youth’s questions. We could not tell

the difference between sex and love.
To want forever from a fever. Red-nailed devotion.

Your mouth made a better man of me.
I was on my way to you. You were on your way to

somewhere free from the imposition
of God / Mother. You could not vow

nor tie your feet to my house. Ache-inducing
eyes, a Qibla. Clear in their sight of the sun’s sinkability.

The sea is at emotional capacity. You’re tidaling therapy-
speak. What wet wounds wake in

wrinkled sheets. Dictate the terms: texts,
no sound, nor body. Unable to world the word of us.

Molecule of air unpinnable by lack. Grief is
spreading over everything. Like the virus of your laughter.

Feeling what you can’t afford to
flood. Wanting you can’t ill yourself to want.

To never again see you
fall good on your knees. Almost a prayer —

this sticky pair unravelled
by a coming only the earth could bear

author bio
issue ten

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