Honeyrose.

By Rabeya Kaur

You entered the seminar circle,

Circled in blue fire and mean eyes,

Flaming with thyme and cedar-wood.

Wheels-within-wheels of thy heart...

The earth shuddered.

A choral burst of bass and you smoked up a heart.

Bought a soap opera digest

And Looney Toons

And a pack of Honeyrose.

I was the wood-haired lass in the line;

I saw your crass and ribs and harlot shine.

With eyes of liner and a few wisps,

You entered this plane of existence

Where only I knew angels had gone.

You found God in your jawline

And took it home,

Snapped it back in its place:

Mother-borne.

You were ballet skin-tight and you drunk up the call-back.

Bought a soap opera digest,

And Looney Toons

And a pack of Honeyrose.

I was the wood-haired lass in the line.

I saw your crass and ribs and harlot shine.

If you’re feeling down,

I can feel you up.

You appeared again tonight:

All sad eyes and dark lips and hurt mind.

You are a scar and a shrine.

I can write the deep tongue;

I can do rituals without the eyes.

When you left there was a pillar

Of salts of tears and of your dust

And I injected it.

I watched angels for ten-ten hours,

I smoked hearts and I tore apart

And I hope I find your dust again.

Angel baby, shake and scream!

But I hope I find your dust again.

You were all cloud

And I was all, all lake;

You were all powdered blue

I was all odd, all violent.

Your ashes were forget-me-nots.

Your schizoid eyes were my childhood black.

Bought a soap opera digest,

And Looney Toons

And a pack of Honeyrose.

I was the wood-haired lass in the line.

I’d seen your crass and ribs and harlot shine.

By Rabeya Kaur