Day 27 Poem: Tissue Matters ~ Alyah Al Aswad
My first instinct is to crumble.
You carry me up to the inner junction of your eyes,
as if I am to have a conversation with a giant,
they river on the banks of too much laughter.
I swallow the saline water
and my flat chested-ness cringes at the taste
of your flow.
You tuck me back into your pocket,
I fit in well and rub my cheek against your thigh,
for a minute, I have an owner and I belong.
Silent beings are destined to be disposable.
You force your back hand into my home,
ambivalent about whether I should face my fear of heights
and the crash into the interior of a trash can.
One day,
I saved your sleeve from the run in your nose,
next thing I know I am shivering
in the violent hum of a garbage truck.
Thank God your mayor believes in recycling,
in my reincarnation.
You carry me up to the inner junction of your eyes,
as if I am to have a conversation with a giant,
they river on the banks of too much laughter.
I swallow the saline water
and my flat chested-ness cringes at the taste
of your flow.
You tuck me back into your pocket,
I fit in well and rub my cheek against your thigh,
for a minute, I have an owner and I belong.
Silent beings are destined to be disposable.
You force your back hand into my home,
ambivalent about whether I should face my fear of heights
and the crash into the interior of a trash can.
One day,
I saved your sleeve from the run in your nose,
next thing I know I am shivering
in the violent hum of a garbage truck.
Thank God your mayor believes in recycling,
in my reincarnation.
This blog documents the memoirs of a Queer Arab Muslim Woman, who holds an interest in the advancement of LGBTQ awareness within Middle Eastern societies. Alyah Al Aswad is a young writer, activist, poet and spoken word artist, based in Amman, Jordan. For bookings, interviews and blog sponsorship inquiries, please contact the author at riversoulx@gmail.com.
