The Amusement Park by Nameera Anjum Khan

Art by Atreyee Basu

The Amusement Park


Blue toes & cereal skin,

My breakfast heart beats in amusement;

I steal away from yellow teeth & sobbing laughter.

A rollercoaster tongue,

She speaks in reds & oranges

Imitating sunsets drowning behind the

Earth's elbows;

I speak of her as though she were a twin,

A detached limb - a wound that doesn't clot

The blood in my ink.

Maple syrup whines,

Draped in cotton candy smiles

My caramel body was never a temple;

It was always a fancy notebook, emptied behind an iceberg of hesitation.

Trench coat diaries,

Voices bubble inside my mother's beige shawl;

The twists in the cloth tighten around her bosom,

I breathe a metallic rebellion inside her throat.

Outside my window, a pigeon cooes in low volumes of warmth. It's probably a song my ears are not used to. Mother peddles into the kitchen stove, swimming in a teacup of culinary depression.

It snows,

The fire goes out

In a hall of mirrors, I find my worst sins;

They look like the twists in my mother's stupid shawl,

It tightens around my bosom, around my breakfast heart that I heard this morning,

Before the world froze into a moment of thrill, a line from some lost poem wrapped in silk lies and wintery whimpers.

About the poet:

Nameera Anjum is a final year student of Political Science, based in Jaipur. Her work has appeared in a number of publications such as The Kali Project, Free Verse Revolution literary magazine, Spillwords Press, Eve Poetry Group and the Calliope Script. You can read more of her on Instagram @nameeraeverafter.