Seawater
She presses her hand
on his face,
pushes his head towards
her mouth,
until the veins on his head
scream of not wanting.
She leans in and whispers
this is where I have come to
yell at God for three years.
When I walk in
I can see the sweat
drip from her nose
as though it is a leaking tap.
And with a wanting
as hot as the sun
he looks at me naked.
I turn around and walk out.
Then with a shock
as sweet as living,
I find myself in the sea,
under the waterlogged sky,
drowning,
terribly,
hoping the drifting wood
speaks out.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un