Grasping for air,
my bane of morning,
I suddenly wake up.
I know I’m responding
to my quick heartbeats
as running in my sleep,
but knowing doesn’t help
in the night bazaar
that I’ve just ran in.
I was made of speed.
Making the right turns
to the domed keep
of oil lamps hissing
at cinnamon body odors,
the crowd elongated,
making their hurried way
in a blur of chadors,
frowns, tiny colors.
The shapes chasing me
do so silently
in the alleyway.
What did I do this time?
Was it the love song?
The book I borrowed?
The length of my skirt?
My violent hair?
Or my stark nakedness?
Cornered, I claw viciously
at their righteousness,
at their holy sanctity,
I grow, I stamp on houses,
wiping towns, dams, fields,
fucking mountains.
My deranged laughter
in high-pitched harmony
with my nails outdrawn.
I’ve broken my chains.
You timidly want war?
I want it all gone.
Jam12
