MANAL KAMRAN

Warp It

your lips they twist perceptions in an instant.

my ink stained fingertips try to make sense of it

and all the things you say, all the things you do

you seem to forget.

when i was younger you loved me

because i had the same chin as baba.

you paid no attention to mahad.

he looked like amma. so you forced my mother

to feed spoiled biryani to her two year old son.

as you watched. as she wept.

“right now you are too dark to marry,”

you say. i say, “i won’t live my life with someone that shallow.”

did you get the hint? stick to your sphere

grandmother and leave me be. please.