Distillation, The Third

Self-portrait, Nevine Sultan

Click to read the first and second “Distillation” poems.

* * * * * * * * *

What was it that made you weep,

My Ghost?

My absences were long.

Your eyes were stone.

We were grasping

for elusive lines.

You said,

I am the arrow that struck you

in the heart.

I am the lovemarks that painted

your wrists.

I said,

I am the agitated membrane that,

when split, liberated your defenses,

disarming the chaos inside you.

But I am also your blank page,

My Ghost.

Your truths are inked,

your secrets grafted,

inside my bones.

I see my history

in your eyes.

Why do we spar so?

I said,

I told you truths.

You said,

For honesty’s sake,

I told you lies.

You, My Ghost?

You said,

You made me smile

like no other could.

I said,

You made me cry.

You said,

Forgive me.

And I spread my ribs and

bared the gaping lips of

this wounded vessel.

And leaning into you, I said,

I do not negotiate forgiveness,

My Ghost.

Now, how’s that for honesty?