by Rumaisa Maryam Samir
I savour the bitter bite of it.
My tastebuds come alive.
Afternoon Nap
Easy Sunday. Languid.
I roll over. I preen,
sunbaked. My limbs
carry the weight of a yawn,
my pores absorb
the clinging afternoon warmth.
I yellow with careless sleep,
like bleached cotton
hung to dry in the sun.
What Comes Alive in Remission
The coffee scalds my tongue,
making its middle buzz.
I savour the bitter bite of it.
My tastebuds come alive.
The sun splits, rich egg yolk
flooding the empty plate of the sky,
pouring thickly over my skin.
My pores come alive.
I let the morning swell with song-
cars purr past me and the birds
pick at the grass.
I flip the page of my book,
and the crisp paper reveals
a new chapter.
I come alive.
© Rumaisa Maryam Samir
Rumaisa Maryam Samir (she/her) was born and raised close to the sea in Karachi, Pakistan. She first discovered poems were fun at the age of 8 – now 19, she wishes she had more time to write in between juggling school and internships.
Find her and more of her work on Instagram @discardedfirstdrafts.
Share the love and wonder by making sure to respect the copyrights! Everything we publish belongs to the authors. You can share their texts via the official link. If you quote them, please credit them. If you wish to republish their work, you can always write to us and we will put you in direct contact with them. Supporting creativity starts with respecting those who create, so we thank you in advance for doing your part!
The Amazine Community 