Nov 27, 2016
Published in Acumen
Issue no. 64
I don't know what to do with these feelings anymore
I've tried painting them, and repainting them,
then I did what any woman would do,
heavy textured, loud print vinyl,
but the poor plastering job did not hold.
I recycled them into something even I failed to recognize,
and gave them to another man,
but they were sent back to me,
I shoved them around like an overweight suitcase in a busy airport,
I left them well unattended, with easy access, hoping to get mugged,
excess baggage, has proven an unappealing commodity.
I finally crumpled, and crinkled them into a creased, uneven shape and tossed them
carelessly in the bin sitting next to my desk, the way a writer chucks away a
I heard them slowly unfold,
the disturbing, haunting sound of wrinkled, dry paper, creeping back from the dead.
my in-disposable sadness.
Posted by Fatima Matar at 27.11.16