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Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
She sat glorified
Among rotting leaves
On a rooftop ledge
Reigning over streets
Where children don't believe in "someday"

Each day, she greets the sky
With a painted pink smile
Her perfectly sized body
A taunt to adolescent girls below

Gusts of violent winds
Descent from that palace
Into the lap of a dreaming bookworm

These days she wears a torn dress,
Broken limbs splayed on a glorified bookcase
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
Day 1, I walked into the library
Day 7, I allowed myself to touch the spines
Day  10 I started on the first book
Day 20 I finished the 30th book
Day 39 I encountered friends more dear than real
Day 59 I leave,
Carrying the ghost-books.
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
Pre-nothingness, we created
A song of immense proportions
It entranced people until they died.

Nothingness, we created
Pictures worth no words
It created a vaudeville show no one escaped.

Post-nothingness we created
A blanket, white, wooly, slightly scratchy
It stretched over sleeping, hungry children
Nuha Fariha Feb 2013
She didn't know anyone with cancer,
She was lucky in that way.
She knew people with diabetes,
TB and  heart failures

She knows people who live
Ten days, sometimes less
Streets where death is
a matter of daily life

She knows people poisoned
by lead, by hunger, by greed
She knows many people
who will not live until the age of 20.

"Who knows someone with cancer?"
asks the motivational speaker
Her hand is the only one down
She's lucky, in that way.
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
Paper unfolded is by far
the most beautiful possibility
Before it is folded
Twisted, refolded, untwisted
Doubled, tripled, bent and unbent
To be beaten into a form
A claustrophobic form.
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
Javier Oscar
Has two first names
Two hands, two feet
One brain
(Though he wished he had two,
One for work and one for play)
Everyday, Javier Oscar walks to work
Crossing two streets
Striding up two stairs
Sitting in-between two equally shaped
Gray Squares
With two bowls in front of him
Round with two light blue swirls
One for pennies, one for food
Everyday, after work, Javier Oscar walks
To a park, to a bridge, to his favorite
Two trees
Where he squats in a shelter, a home of
Two cardboard boxes and two shredded raincoats
One a kitchen, one a bedroom
Every two days, Javier Oscar donates
Two dollars to charity
One a future hope, one a forgotten love.
For Javier Oscar is not poor
He has two hands, two feet, two names
One a man, one a soul.
Nuha Fariha Jan 2013
Hey Samah?
Yeah.
Move over. I'm falling.
No.
I'll leave.
Fine. Happy?
Yeah.
I don't like sleeping with you. You're too unpredictable. However, we will still remain bed buddies.
We were never bed buddies.
Of course we're bed buddies. We're also sweater, pants, TV, lunch, dinner and homework buddies.
Is there anything we're not buddies for?
Poetry buddies. You ****. You don't even rhyme things. I'm sleepy. Good night.
'Night.
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