Tiggy sent this poem to me, which I liked to the most. The most is Tiggy in her best.
laila
I emerge
A white lie
A stained butterfly
Seeking only paper flowers,
Nectars awry.
Then my wings
Edges smoking
Tell me you’re close by.
Lodged as you are
Between the ribs,
Under the sigh
I beg:
Don’t make me flutter
I ask :
Don’t move please,
I .. still .. live.
Flight 426 Rome Paris
5/2/2007
Tiggy Ibrahim
1 comment:
Being us we dance alone .
Each a swallow
A cell phone ring.
Avoiding mirrors,
where sirens call:
“we know your truth
Come see your sin”
And Laila,
my oldest wind Turns my pages , tracing an eyelid here ,
the petals of a name .
Not everything my interpreter , will smell just as sweet .
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