i don’t know what silence smells like. maybe rosebuds or lemon or pine or a father’s cologne. [insert] smell here. [insert] sound [insert] feeling [insert] [insert] [insert] until there’s nothing left. i see you see me without looking up. i see each sound: nails scratch denim, [shift] in seat, dishes clanking & breaths / deeper & deeper. coffee pour, getting quieter becoming / full. i’m supposed to continue writing. even though / brain says stop & words are dry i am supposed to continue / [home] / is this what heaven looks like? just trees & darkness & crisp midnight. should heaven be a feeling or a lack of any (?)[home]
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About the Creator
Sara Khayat
Poetry / Plants / People
MFA Poetry & Fiction
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More stories from Sara Khayat and writers in Poets and other communities.
Moonflower in the Sun
28 and my hair is turning gray. dream about a house and a garden with $100 dollars in my checking. make a list of plants that vine for the future. a moonflower only has time to bloom at night. sign off on a loan to pay a loan to pay a loan. you bring me a bouquet of flowers when i feel lonely. can’t leave the bed. car didn’t start this morning. flat tire a man honking asking if i knew. i cry after the scene in atlanta where donald glover says poor people don’t have time for investments. i wish i could be pretty without anyone noticing. i wish i could be ugly without anyone noticing. my hair all over the floor, between your toes i pull it from the drain. i can’t afford a haircut and am too afraid to lift the scissors myself.
By Sara Khayat3 years ago in Poets
Watcher at night
When I was a child, I would occasionally sense an intense, ominous presence watching me as I lay in bed at night. These experiences were rare, perhaps a few times a year. I would keep my eyes shut and try to ignore the feeling until it passed or I fell back asleep.
By spooky session7 days ago in Poets
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