firework(in progress

(c) 2013-2014 'Safira B'

i.

i will become prettier:
    a) i will have shinier hair
    b) i will have clearer skin
    c) i will learn to wear make-up properly
    d) i will buy nicer clothes

ii.

i will let him go:
    a) i will burn my old poems
    b) i will rip our old pictures
    c) i will stop wanting to see him
    d) i will not let my heart beat to his name

iii.

i will live life without love:
    a) i will not give myself away so easily
    b) i will keep my heart safe
    c) i will love myself first
    d) i will not feel lonely at parties

iv.

i will be open to love and friendship:
    a) i will write again
    b) i will not chase anyone
    c) i will let people go
    d) i will not cry or be hurt

v.

i will think of more resolutions:
    a) i can't keep using last year's ones.

at the bottom of the ocean

(c) 2013-2014 'Safira B'

were you f o o l i s h enough to think
that i would be beautiful
when you broke me?

        did you think that i would
        break cleanly? that there would
        be no jagged edges
        screaming for your blood?

                did you think that your
                mocking laughter would slice
                my brown skin into thin slivers
                without me twining myself
                into a noose for you?

                        did you think you could
                        make me trace the footsteps
                        of my ancestors; bathe myself
                        in gasoline and light the match
                        with your name on my cracked lips?

your eyes are not the ocean

and i will not drown

unbecoming, unbeing

(c) 2012-2013 'Safira B'

do not tell me i should forget what it means
to be the smear of brown in a sea of pallid skin, to be
muddy brown eyes in a canopy of green and sky of blue, to be
small hips and short stretch of legs before miles and miles of pale, curving bodies.

do not tell me i should forget what it means
to be the butt of the joke, to be
you look beautiful today and raucous laughter because
who could find me beautiful? what a laugh.

do not tell me i should forget what it means
to be wrongwrongwrong.

do not tell me i should forget that
you taught me to love men with eyes as blue as the sky and
hair, curly and brown or golden, and
acres of white skin;

when no one ever taught me
how to bleach my skin
and how to stretch my legs fartherfartherfarther until i cannot see the ground
and carve the accent out of my speech
and wash my irises out into something glassy
and wish hard enough for my hair to be blonde.

do not tell me i should forget
when no one ever taught me
the trick to being loved back.

blinding

(c) 2012-2013 'Safira B'

it is the gompang that beats through my veins

                      thunder and lightning realisation racing along my spine

the bright sun on the couple walking from nikah to their car

                       the groom clad in blue baju melayu

it is the sounds of my home that remind me

you do not want to be here.

social unlearning theory

(c) 2012-2013 'Safira B'

dear society,
                              'behind every great man is an equally great woman'
                               i never thought you'd take that so
                                                                                         literally?
                       
                                                                                                                  regards,
                                                                                                                  g

make ends meet

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

we live our lives waiting to die
        they say
i'm living my life,
 waiting for you
                          (is that a kind of death, too?)

but isn't it morbid,
   to start with the end?

but what are you and me
  but a collection of loose moments
and words
    and touches

      and accidents? (i didn't mean to love you
                                  you don't mean to let me.)

should i talk instead about how you
feel like
             sunlight
taste like
                the rain
                on my skin? does that make it easier for you?

(we have enough endings by now
                 to start something new.)

sword clash

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

i have been fighting for the longest time
enough wars to make your hearts break

                  [dawn and dusk
                        mother and father
                   sibling and child
                          ; the darkest of all crusades
                                 the most righteous of all jihad ]

   i would fight a thousand more
                         a thousand more

                                  if i could fall like a star
               or angel
                             (there isn't too much of a difference; both are so far away)

       into you
                        ; my home.
                  (heaven,
                                 jannah)

exitus acta probat

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

onceuponatime.

You're afraid to fall asleep.

You are, you are, even if you try to tell Mum otherwise; you're afraid of the monsters and half-spider half-lion creatures twining around your legs and sinking fangs into your skin. You're afraid of the dark and you're afraid of the shadows and you're afraid of the way the sky goes green and blue and orange and purple in the shift between night and day -- terrified that the sun won't be able to chase the dark sky away, one day.

But, though you try and try and try, you fail each time.

And you sleep.

i.

You're awake -- or the dream equivalent of being awake -- the dregs of your consciousness and the fabric of your dreams ghosting around the edges of your body, like satin and silk and cobwebs. There is a boy -- there is always a boy, even in places that are yours and yours alone -- and he has the greenest eyes you ever did see; shining emeralds in a sea of disheartened greys.

"I am Adam."

"I am Eve."

He stares at the length of your neck, the swell of your bottom lip, the curve of your breast and sneers. Flushing with shame and disgust, you want to wrap the dream tighter around yourself -- keep this other out; chase him away with the sun. But he won't go, you know he won't, though how you know will always be a mystery to you.

Still, you can't help but stare at him from under your stupid girl-lashes, grey, cut-glass eyes reflecting his green perfectly.

...

You're awake.

ii.

"You are a very pretty girl," he says, demands, even as you shake your head. "You are." he insists.

Teeth sink into those girl-lips of yours, "well, you are a very pretty boy."

"Yes," he laughs, like gravel and dirt and whiskey, "yes, I am."

You shiver. He gives you his jacket.

You give him pink ribbons for his gold-spun hair.

iii.

"Your skin is soft and warm," he frowns, "mine is different."

He offers his arm to you, pulls your hand to run along the heated flesh from arm to shoulder to chest to hips, and over again. You frown, too, pulling your hand back.

"You're a boy," you argue, "you're not supposed to be like me."

"That's stupid. I want to be pretty, too."

Huffing, you pull off your white dress, press the bundle into his arms. "There. Now you'll look like the prettiest princess of them all."

He gives you his faded jeans, torn by the knees from overuse.

iv.

"Your hair is nice," you mourn, running impatient, jealous hands through the golden strands, "it's so very nice. A girl would want hair like yours."

He stares up at you from your lap, one hand fisted in the green grass, the blue sky catching his emerald eyes, sunlight beating down on you both. "Why would you want that? Your hair is lovely and long. I want hair like that."

You pull out silver scissors, and fear flashes through his eyes; like he's made a confession and you are to execute him for his crimes. But you simply bring the silver to your own hair, and snickt, snickt. Bring up the strands, press them close to his, and whisper by his ear, "you can, you can."

v.

"I want it," you demand, hands on his chest. He looks up at you in surprise, mouth falling open. "Kiss me. I only want a taste."

So he does, pressing his mouth against your own, sliding his tongue against your own, teeth catching on lips. Chests pressed together, skin burning, burning, burning--

--When he pulls away, you both laugh -- him like windchimes, and you like gravel and dirt and whiskey and the secret things people do in the dark places of a bar.

vi.

"I am Adam," you say, with gold-spun hair, frayed jeans, and an angular frame, voice low and drumming.

"I am Eve," she says, with ribbons in her hair, a white dress and whimsical voice.

happilyeverafter.

You're awake, finally.

swallowing suns

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

"anxiety-ridden nails dig into plush pillow
                   corners, unseen
     eyes tracking the curve of a thigh
             shallows and shadows of a back
that carries no weight and too much weight
                                      at once.

a simmering slow smile
                           and wink
                                  and blink
                                            lips tugged by teeth
                                                  ((don't let them see))"

i wasn't married then
                                 - lagi -
                                              yet
                                                     again
                             i'm not married now - lagi - either.
                          (a warning or a reminder or a promise;
                               neither of you know anymore)

"averted eyes,
slow, quick flash of pink                                                          (thud, thud of shared blood)
        and s m i l e.

                                                        he's not as pretty as the others
                                                        but you want to shove starlight under his skin
                                                        and watch the flames lick his insides."

peace[s]

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'
* I love you and miss you, so much, Mr Riddell.

low, lumbering steps grinding
              to a halt - oh god
                  oh god, don't ask ple--

                                                      " you al(l)
                                                                     right?"
                                                as though ocean eyes could
                                                     heal old wounds with a sharp, salted sting;
                                                     drag sorrows to davy jones;
                                                     slow push'n'pull tide away
                                                             solid rock problems.

       (" of course, yeah, no problem. stuck between a rock and a hard place, are you? "
                                         something like )

" perfect, thank you. "
                        you, i'll tell you tomorrow
                                                     tomorrow
                                                       my low, lumbering steps grind to
                                          a                                                              halt
                                               oh god oh god don't ask please

                                                                                               please.



                          [i wish the grave was as empty as my heart.]

hurricane

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

[there is some kind of grief
     she keeps {inside}
  a hurricane beneath her skin

                         f
                           a
                              l
                                l into the e - y - e of the storm
                          as she dances and twirls and tears
                          at your skin,
                              screaming with laughter
                                            and torn throat.

                                       she rakes her nails down your face
                                              and back and thighs and heart
                                   like she's sowing seeds into angry red
                                   spaces and waiting for you to flourish
                                      and                                            m
                                                                              o
                                                                    o
                                                           l
                                                b                             hungrily.

             she cries through release,
      bindings snapping, mouth desperate
         and shuddering because your
              shoulders are wide enough
                                      to carry her world on them]

midnight snack

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'
* As seen in The World Book 2011

your skin swallows up the sun,

until you're fit to burst with sunrays leaking through your fingertips,

your tongue traces thought-ridden lips as your cloudy mind

sheds judgements like clothes for charity

precise and well-worn;

your silence says more than it should,

(

slithering up to my heart, [f ang s] sinking in,

the poison in my veins hums for your voice;

i'm w r i t h i n g                     gossamer skin,

  underneath

pulled [tight] over blood+bones,

fireworks filtered through fallen lids,

&& 

[there's a song written on the inside of my wrists]

seagreen lyrics singing lifebloods,

as the moon creeps out, child-like curiosity,

inky ghosting locks liplocking across the night,

milky moonbeams f

                                a

                                     l

                                         l

                                                        to earth, 

to kiss my buttermilk bones;

and now i'm always hungry,

for pale skin and luminous blue eyes,

[for that blue roadmap of amazonian rivers to your liquid lusty love]

who else can cool my blood?

there's some kind of animal trapped in between the smooth muscle

and endothelial layers of my vocal chords,

pushing through like a thick vine to overtake my face;

{please, i'm howling for you}

you: carmine candy and home and real,

i need to be (wholer),

because my breathing w a n e s,

blueblueblue in the midnight air,

tendrils of heat s p r e a d i n g like wildfire;

and the moon . . . waxes, leaving the night sky,

ravenous for adventure and [p o  o   l    s] into the ocean;

even the sky feeds from my awe of you;

in the dark is the best way to hear your heartb e a t,

thick heartstrings like black powerlines p a s s i n g  t h r o u g h 

the core of every star from you to me,

.h.o.o.k. onto my diaphragm,

make my pace as they d r a g me to you,

over gravel, grit && grass,

bloody feet on the yellow brick road,

hansel and gretel follow me home;

)

i smile

-  k c a b -

 at you patiently&patiently,

serrated incisors glinting in sunlight;

and we're only human

-

[the autumn moon is bright, tonight]

writing traps

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

p o u r inky, smoky words
on inky smoky lines

watch as your H,E,A,R,T’s 

presses its faces through 

pri              ·               son              ·               bar              ·               s 

press each button
         each word

i d e n t I c a l 

manufactured lines
to manufacture feeling

and rhyme scheme
one, two, three, four.
one, two, three, snore.

nothing rhymes with orange, 

anyway.

untitled

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

a shroud of night frames my face
and it makes it easier, right?

poverty.
hungry mouth, thirsty hands,
binging on the ghost 

of your hand against my fingertips.

skin arching forward, aching
splitting apart, red pushing through the seams,
pooling to the ground and winding
snake-like around the warmth of your waist.

i am not merely human.
smooth venusian valleys and cleopatra calves
obscured by a waterfall of bitter
blackened burdens

i can feel
so
feel me.

crumbs are not enough.

under the red sun

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

the sky bleeds red
you just dig, dig. digging.
seeds of doubt planting
firmly. am I safe in my bed?

grain just won’t grow in this soil
watered by your tears of toil.

* Collectivisation, the agricultural 'reforms' introduced in the USSR by Josef Stalin

three little words

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

      there's something
     [trapped]
     bet-                                           -ween
            the net of my vocal chords
            like ~fish in the sea. i
p-u--l---l them kcab, that tide

    of feeling and force a different
       iambic triameter past poetry-
                                  kissed lips -

                    "how are you?"

The Same Side

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

We speak to the same moon,
smoky secrets spilling, snaking around
the radius of that grey, misty orb,
ashen wings to caress a glowing soul.

We count the same sky, inky and black,
monotone. Pin-pricks of white light that we
can pretend are hopes or dreams
or I love you’s
or something.

And then we don’t.

Cracking between indulgent gold,
scarlet skies well up and overflow,
blood-red sun dripping
pools of light in your wake;
your steps are wide and sure.

While night floods my room,
pooling around my ankles
like tangled sheets;
midnight shackles
that smother:

I am drowning in them.

Our moons are different, now,
Ashen wings to caress an ashen soul.

snow angels

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

i'm drawin' little snow angels
on your frosty windows

you've got the A/C on high
and the radio's nothing but static

each raindrop thuds against my fingers
and my pulse, in venn

your misty exhalation brushes across my bare legs
little ghost kisses as you switch the dial from FM to off

i burrow into my cocoon of cotton and candy and cutting words
and flowers and elegance and dior flood the air

your lips, as red as my eyes, press thin to stop a litany of my name,
and a little golden shackle, glares at me.

racing

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

spectres haunt my perepheries
as the road coughs up dirt(

there's a pulse racing
between my fingertips
but it's n
ot yours.)

the finish line is here
dangling over the edge of a cliff.

                                                       some leap of faith.

chain of being

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

what         would i

          be



   if

          daylight



smiles

       turned









                     away

                               ?