I stayed

When I knew you were burying me
Convinced myself I loved the smell
Of the earth you piled over my grave
“Sometimes you have to get your hands *****” I laughed
I wasn’t the only one laughing

When I came to see you last
I didn’t know I had invited myself to a funeral
You didn’t close my eyes
You didn’t cover me in the funeral shroud
Neglected to inform me
I had died
“Miskeena”* they said

There wasn’t much of a crowd that day
You said you tried, you really did
The mourners reassured you
You did, you really did
Bisous, bisous*

You left without saying my final rites
But the water, snow, and hail
Washed my body clean without you
And I adorned my own body in white  

By chance
If you see me again, please don’t be startled
I’m sure you’ve heard stories of how pretty I am
For a corpse

And when you come close
Don’t expect a stench or a rotten tongue
My skin would make the argan trees weep with joy
Yes, I smell just as good as I used to

You should have already known that I’m the kind of girl who can grow flowers
Even in a grave.


-Norah Khardaji