I’ll leave you where I found you
I’m trying to call your name but scamp fritter, I got it all wrong
I couldn’t trickle you down, gothic peach, you are black
with make-up. And I’m finding it hard, to find your name
without risking a bottle of hairless wishes.
I wish I had the nerve to shout out loud but I whisper.
In an accent, maybe it belongs to you? Celestial waste, I know
you hate it when I say it backwards, but I’m finding it hard to
speak straight. I half my vowels, I cough out the nouns
I speak in norms and give you nothing – it’s nothing or gold
that’s how I work, I confess: I fell for you once
but I read the poison on your lips – my name
you sucked on it like chicken bones
your name, I never caught it
so I can’t call you to me
© Nisha Bhakoo
Hard pretty
Planet pears to multi-
vitamin, a juicy chunk
didn’t make it to magic.
Hard pretty, a touch
of tough/
blushing green in
olive spit/
I chew to
–take in–
redcurrant
a romance of pins
but to the eye—
Turkish delight
a deeper rose
than valentine
© Nisha Bhakoo
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