Farah Ghafoor


it is not easy to forget a language               it’s not that easy when
it runs swift even as the thickest blood       take power
                       or escape.             hold shambles
                       or sword.

crow your throat when your accent comes out
and you bite your tongue your live wire
                                                                  you bite
                                                                  your tongue and your static vocal cords
                                                                  shiver at the damage

of this rich sound or a beautiful          car crash
                                                     screech and prying streetlights
of people      prying into the dead bodies &&in you
                                  if you can’t keep your mouth shut

try to forget when you steep words in the melting pot
                                                                  of your mouth
names seeped in prayer not beg. roomfuls of breath
         stolen from family so
your tongue releases to curve

around words as cold         and lonely
         as the single dark figure in a brilliant gold and blue
witness to the wreckage                      over the thin roads
of rubber shuddering volts              designed to take you anywhere but home

Farah Ghafoor is a sixteen-year-old poet and a founding editor at Sugar Rascals, a teen literary magazine. Her work is published or forthcoming in Ninth Letter, alien mouth, Words Dance, and Red Paint Hill among other places and has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. Farah is the recipient of the 2016 Alexandria Quarterly Emerging Artists and Writers Award. She believes that she deserves a cat. Find her online at fghafoor.tumblr.com.