A Past Friend Tells Me to Get a Real Job
Poetry by Rahana K. Ismail
My throat is a birdnest. A pigeon,
tomato legs, brinjal neck, I am back
at the store where I saw her. I saw her
at the avocados, at the bananas,
LMNOpeas, one Goodnight Moon
all the way to the next one, the moon
weakening as she told me I was. In the
weakening moon, my pigeon has gone,
and there she is, back with twigs. The nest
on the ledge of my throat black with brewing
words. I could have told her my truths, but
from the first sighting she is a radio
I am passing by. I see her tell me all that,
a shop window between us or a thousand miles
of unconcern sound could walk but not
me. I let the pigeon house its nest. I would love
the brood of silence before breaking into
chatter, I would love mothering it.
tomato legs, brinjal neck, I am back
at the store where I saw her. I saw her
at the avocados, at the bananas,
LMNOpeas, one Goodnight Moon
all the way to the next one, the moon
weakening as she told me I was. In the
weakening moon, my pigeon has gone,
and there she is, back with twigs. The nest
on the ledge of my throat black with brewing
words. I could have told her my truths, but
from the first sighting she is a radio
I am passing by. I see her tell me all that,
a shop window between us or a thousand miles
of unconcern sound could walk but not
me. I let the pigeon house its nest. I would love
the brood of silence before breaking into
chatter, I would love mothering it.
About the Writer
Rahana K Ismail is a poet and a doctor from Kozhikode, Kerala. Her work has been featured or forthcoming in Penn Review, Alchemy Spoon, Yearbook of Indian Poetry, nether Quarterly, Contemporary Haibun Online, Usawa Literary Review, the Chakkar, Alipore Post, Aainanagar, Hakara, Verse of Silence, EKL Review, Pine Cone Review and elsewhere.
