AMIDST THE BLUSH OF LITERATURE
R A I N W A T E R
Her gentle whims and raw, unuttered thought
The mischances and misadventures of summertime subtlety
She sipped on delicate discernment,
And she met mornings with the mess of a masterpiece.
The strange madness that settled within her,
Pursed lips and flushed cheeks
She spoke of sweet nothings,
Of the aftertaste of empty utterances
The sought after word of a woman that threatened her art,
For she took what kills and let it revive her,
She sought out the flood in a forest fire
Doused in the deafening curiosity that soaked into her skin
That left a cataclysm in her reason,
That breached her apperception
And ate away at her aspirations.
She was drenched in rainwater redemption
In the quiet hush of traveled vulnerability
And swallowed hesitation,
She was the storm.
W R I T T E N A N D R E A D
She was reckless, a poised adornment of peculiar pleasantries
The clack of her heel heavy, as she wandered that of an empty thoroughfare
A mimicry of her inconsistent mind, for her revelations walked with her.
She longed for sweet solace, barefoot to bear yet another restless notion
She donned dried typewriter ink as she wrote of a narrative unlike her own
For you may ask her, why her words chronicle such strange curiosity
You may ask her why she’d spin a spiel that did not speak of her individuality
And to that she would tell you, that her fiction was written to incite inquisition
To make you question,
All that she has come to inspire
To make you listen,
To all that she has left to say.
Copyright © 2018 Anisa Nasir
All Rights Reserved
(I do not own the photographs above).