Fingers swirling like water to a sinkhole
Halima touches the swell,
Whirlpools darkening at her navel,
She waits
As her husband
Takes his fill,
Syruping her fever,
Roping her hair into necklaces, knuckled glass, chuckling, a phantom
pain packing insanity and laughter and windows clear enough to look through.
Pause that knock.
Ask if this is okay. If this is true.
If blood is red.
If fire can sear skin with no smoke.
She whispers a prayer into his pillow, sweating, swearing
Her mother’s maiden name, losing to the cave he fills,
Overturning seasons like leaves spinning in the wind.
Men, she sighs, have become more
Fickle than sycamore seeds.

About haringeyunchained

Haringey Unchained is a collective of students aiming to show case the creative talent of Haringey Sixth Form College in Tottenham, London. We think that through the promotion of our creative thoughts, we can educate our community, bringing to the foreground the critical and creative consciousness of a vibrant school in a deprived part of London. We are endeavouring to provide this blog as a platform for our community, giving the space to those whose work otherwise might not be seen or read. Being that the cuffs are off, we are able to express through our photography, art, short fiction and poetry, what’s really on our minds. We are free.

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