From all the endearments you velveted me with,
I carved a follicle of warmth,
carried it into the dense forest of humanity,
the way a squirrel rolls up tufts of semal for its nest.
All the grasses I knew - Salt, Reed Halfa, Cord,
retained dew even when dead.
Your presence was voice, length, breadth, awning sky.
I could spend days wearing your gaze.
Even if I tried I couldn’t fill the house
the way you did;
when you planted roses,
they bloomed hieroglyphs.
Each star is a pentacle assuaging grief.
Life’s heaviness mutating to light.
A heavenly embrace of the flash
we were, for one stark moment in time.
semal - cotton silk