Poem- Echoes of An Evening

Pink sequins and an emerald wrist

in a mirror marred by violence.

Look behind you, there is a spider clinging

to a flimsy web that cannot be held

together by mere words alone.

In a green silk blouse shimmering

like sunshine on a crystal tear,

you look for distraction in a mirror;

you stroke old wounds with fingers

yellowed by cheap cigarettes and years

of bitter acceptance.

Through evenings smelling of stale smoke

and plants dying in Moroccan terracotta,

you comb your hair in a window lit

by moonbeams frail and tarnished with time.

You sleep to the lonely sound of chimes,

and engulf yourself in the folds

of a long and scathing solitude.

Zaina Anwar 2010