immunity

Rania Dawud, Jordan

i slice my finger open as i cut up a peach

the angry moon blinks with blood after each dab

gathering my jams i might actually be free.

when my titles scattered like leaves and the warm milk

crusted all my cups i slipped through the cracks and

it wasn’t scary. there were just no more things to be.

when i look at the clock i forget how to read time

all my books have fallen apart and the constellations

are wrong, you can’t find futures in the abyss.

i replant a pinecone, i write a letter to nowhere and

when an animal creeps nearby i don’t dare name it.

i brew sage and unlax, knowing nothing now, a wish

fades away like pigment, as all wishes eventually do

and what if i do meet the light, what will it say for itself.

Rania Dawud is a writer based in Amman, Jordan. She is interested in exploring coming of age and navigating our ever-changing spaces. Her writing has appeared in Sumou Mag, Unootha Mag, and Uniquely Aligned.