Self-portrait, Nevine Sultan
Click here to read the first “Distillation” poem.
* * * * * * * * *
I’m sorry if I don’t
always cry with you.
You’re just lucky you don’t
always cry, My Ghost.
Or I’m just unlucky
I don’t cry.
Sometimes you do cry, My Ghost—
not from sadness, but from joy.
And though you hide your tears from me,
I always feel them in my throat.
And I come to you so quietly,
knowing you hate too much noise.