After Pablo Neruda, For Ahmad Aisha


I have named you queen,
I drag a crown made of confetti,
I disentangle into a downpour of rain on your head
& your mouth loosens into a bowl of rosewater.

I want to walk with you, hand in hand
on a carpet splattered with tulips, I want
to wash your hard little feet with rosewater,

when I shook your hand earlier today,
the softness dragged me into the midst
of lance flower,

the love of you, in the socket of my eyes,
the island of my chest, a moonlight that
illuminates my nights.

Lovely one,
I see in you, the softness of water,
& when I pull myself to ruminating about you,
sleep finds it hard to submerge me into its chasm.

Dear lovely one,
I want to learn to tie a knot that will
enclose me & you. My dear,
tomorrow, the wave will lift me towards you
& I will walk on water into your abode, If today
says no, maybe tomorrow won’t.
Maybe it’ll wear on my neck, a bouquet of dewy jasmines.



Photo by John Ray Ebora from Pexels