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On Jul 12, 2018

M. Nyakara


Your hands trace paths across my thigh

Each finger marking slightly raised bumps

A mountain pass

you can cross

with no eyes

only your tongue

Your eyes are fixed on my lips

they say:

“We should do this again sometime “


You know me so well, I wear your skin under mine?

Warm breath licks across my face

like a gentle monsoon breeze

You whisper:

“I haven’t found the fastest route “



is your sweater draped

on a dusty bench

with only the vestiges

of your scent remaining.


My belly was swollen with the anticipation

of isolation –

curled deep in this pit of sorrow

is your son born of fear and pain?

Fear that this seed would take root

and plant an extension

of your being inside me

Pain because I knew

I had lost you to something else;

that before her,

we had been alone

and that afterward,

I was singularly so.


Check out M Nyakara‘s blog. For more poetry click here

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