The burnt brown of my skin 

like the body of a prune 

is being shredded between

teeth 

      Its’ sweetness 

bites back with roused 

blood—warm honey on

a wet tongue. 

You can’t help it. Can you? 

             To go back for more. 

You have been both seed,

and snake writhing in my 

sediment as you shape my

Heaven 

into your home 

like Hawa’s fruit after 

Adam sucked her raw

violet septum, 

dry.

You have even been gardener, 

whistling a worker’s song 

while basketing my paradise. 

The flowers arched down to 

to taste the sweat of God

in your hair as you worked. 

You are His perfect creature. 

I bet the animals watch 

while we make love, mimicking 

our sensual cries. 

I bet this poem finds you  

wanting—desire looping

itself with your veins, 

 my perfect wonder.

…

Mariam Hassan is poet and filmmaker whose work has been published in several literary magazines and anthologies such Odd Magazine, Afro Literary and Boys Are Not Stones IV: Demigods. Her writing explores themes of identity, love and self discovery formed under formulaic and intimate writing styles. She enjoys music, sand under her feet and maladaptive daydreaming.