in a room with one lit candle, the smell of burning.
walls with flecks of orange light, hole punched
and shaped like small suns. there is only quietness to stay
with me. when i was thirteen i learnt i could be held
mostly when i was alone. water
falling off my skin my favourite past time. each
hidden afternoon where the cells inside me torched
and tucked away beneath covers, my wet fingers singing –
when at last i learned to share the feeling
which until now i safeguarded –
the softness of an empty hallway disappearing
without begging, like fig and the touch
of two shadows angled perpendicular,
i learn desire, take it
from between my two front teeth, slip it in
the space between us, it thrums – the wait is too hot,
and my knees curve
into your collarbone
i could mouth your name on sidewalks forever.
Memoona Z is a poet living in London. After graduating from Goldsmiths, she recently completed her MA in Poetry at the University of East Anglia. Her poems have appeared in PAIN, bath magg, Ink, Sweat and Tears and elsewhere.