Songs of Anisha
“We Were Both Turned On By The Desire
Of The Paradise Of Heaven,”
by Abigail George
This is what the meaning
of life is. It was your world, this,
well it was your world
and now it is mine.
What is this sudden matrilineal pleasure?
The transparency of
winter light. Its profusion
engulfs me. Compels me
to write this. The wreck
of the morning unwinds
at its own pace. So does
the pigment of the lit earth.
The ends brightening of
the blue sky. The staring
and hiddenness of lovers
slowly become a part
of belonging, reality, normalcy,
history and even fiction.
You enter my world wordlessly
like ritual, heritage or
inheritance. Before he,
the boy, Julian is stolen
from me he becomes a memory.
This is the pleasure that
brings us closer together even
closure so let pleasure linger.
He does not know me
when I am angry. No,
he has never seen me like that.
He has never seen me
happy and sad at the same
time (in other words manic).
Frightened, frustrated, guilty
or high. He has always
seen me composed though.
I just want to belong to
this world. Same as the next person.
Same as him. I also wish for
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