Cardamom Evening
My aunt, like always,
makes cardamom black tea.
She says it has all homeliness spices.
I know she means loneliness
that’s been sweeping over her soul
over the years,
fearing it might reach out to me too.
She gives me the tea along the smile
that is softening her wrinkled cheeks.
Undoing whatever foreign seasons did to her.
I hold the mug tight between my hands
the heat is all I need
to melt this icicled evening.
BIO
Sarwa Azeez is a Fulbright alumni, got her masters in Creative Writing from Nebraska-Lincoln University. Her debut poetry pamphlet collection, Remote, was published in the UK by 4Word in 2019. Her work has also appeared in Wingless Dreamer, Writing in A Woman's Voice, Topical Poetry among others.
Recent Posts
See AllIt’s better to meditate at sunrise, they say. Inhale two, three, four, exhale two, three, four. I close my eyes to look for my nothing...
“You should wear makeup, dearest, and find yourself a boyfriend.” Madame Constantinescu leaned and kissed me goodbye in front of the...
a young girl in a white vest bombed my shoulder and politely said “sorry madam.” For a second I wanted to slap her back. Instead I...
Yorumlar