Under the Burqah

Location

It could be anything, a man

strapped neck-high in bombs, Sunni

sweat, dust and black curled

chest hair

 

a grandmother

with fresh mandarin oranges from the market,

a maze of lines beneath sagged eyes

with cataracts.

 

Maybe there's an extra

hand, a small tuft of soft

fur, a battery-operated fan

for Afghan summers,

 

rolling dunes

of curves, tight geometric

abs, tender pyramids of breasts

hidden beneath desert dusk.

  

Or it could be nothing

a lack of matter

a comma, pause, shadow,

an absence of utterance.

 

Or maybe

it's just a girl.

Thirteen, with hazel eyes and braces

who dreams she'll grow wings.

  

Comments

Petravovskaya

Absolitely beautiful!!!

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741