completion made manifest

completion made manifest

Our love comes down to bread, milk and bananas.
The staff of life,
The stuff of bones,
The stomach-cramping fruit, his favourite whole,
I can only eat them baked, cooked or blended.

Our love comes down to who picks up the socks,
And who leaves them on the floor.
Who switches on the lights
And who changes the lightbulbs.

We’ve scaled no mountains (well, maybe Kilimanjaro one day should our bones obey)
We’ve swum no seas (need lessons first, the both of us)
We fought not long nor hard for us.
He did not write a song for me.
He didn’t have to.

Published by

saaleha

I am a writer and photographer (look up my work on www.shootcake.com) based in Johannesburg, South Africa. I have an MA in Creative Writing from the university currently known as Rhodes. My writing accolades include winning the 2014 Writivism Short Story Prize and the 2020 Ingrid Jonker Poetry Prize for my debut collection, Zikr.

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