After Breakup #7
Nothing in the bag except a sun-dried tomato. It’s here, just one, and what does it mean? We think you’re drying up, it’s no use. What if you take it in your palm (it fits, it sleeps) and
keep it, this sun-dried tomato like a shrivelled heart, a broken Oh? The instruction manual for falling out of love says save the tomato, salt-sweet and crushed and tired, so tired.
The jonquil speaks in yellow. As for him, his body lies on the grass and how different the days are now, light crushing the sky, his body crushing the green. The jonquil says dreams are memories steeped in syrup. He’s still licking a drop off his lips as he wakes up, sunned and content. The jonquil reminds him that the past is a colour. He still has a memory to prove they existed, one blank afternoon in Edinburgh. The jonquil says lemonade for the parched and his confused tongue agrees. She was brighter than anything he remembers. This may or may not be true.
Nora Nadjarian is a poet and writer from Cyprus. She has been placed or commended in numerous international competitions including the Live Canon International Poetry Competition and Mslexia. Her work was recently included in Atrium, Raceme, Poetry International and Ink Sweat & Tears.