Glass Window

A Poem

By Shameelah Khan


I sat on a boat once,
in Mozambique
where the children
run free
mango trees
The heat was murky-sweat-swine-flu-floods-
falling tenderly
like raindrops
nauseating peanut-butter brittle
crackling between my mother’s teeth
A lady across from me rested her head
on her husband’s shoulder
and he pushed her away
There was only air between us and the openness of skies
but if there was a glass window
I would have severed it
blood-murky-muddy-red-skin
taking a piece from the floor
sticking it into his eye
blinding him
to her love
passing him by
The motion made me sick
and I threw up gallons
of Sadness
for a woman,
tired
tired
tired
of the man she loves