 Summer Qabazard is a half Kuwaiti, half British poet. She holds a doctorate in poetry from Illinois State University. She has served as guest editor for Spoon River Poetry Review. Her poetry has appeared in: Bitter Oleander Press, Blue and Yellow Dog, Connotation Press, Cuento Magazine, Danse Macabre, Eskimo Pie, Eunoia Review, Euphemism, Foliate Oak, Front Porch Review, LitMag, Mad Swirl, Mobius, Red Lightbulbs, Verse Wisconsin, Vox Poetica, The Camel Saloon, and The Legendary.
Escaping the Desert I am not armed for this disconnecting land This place is nightmare on my wrists I cut out the parts of my brain holding the trauma But it grows back and back and back Sad and bruised She pretends it never happened It happened In me there is the screaming of it so loud meaning leaves the screaming The Uncertainty of Affection We telephone unhappy We speak with affection The moment smells of vanilla I recognize the moment We don’t always speak with affection Keeping by mildness I notice the leaves I know the starlit spreadlings of city in warmwind I lie under a canopy of music I lie under the color of wine held by a glass Ghosts circle rooms The dead city walks through me I’m star-bathed white Broken bodies are sent into distance I honor the uncertainty of affection I see night change above the house The night offers me darkseconds The night is in expectation Words fall from us Shadows replace syllables The sound is a winding ready to leap The speechattempt has a harsh effect A failing of softness I’m broken by the not-speaking I’m broken by the no-answer You Got Stuck in My Head baby I’m puddles meat writer a lot of work to cut a person in half yesterday came quivering back music and lights fall through you drunk as Christmas come visit me I will be here alone talking to city ghosts every skin flap a window a worm for life licked it clean spit it out onto the grass anger is feeling things with feeling things with feeling almost had the courage to kiss you the other day an undisclosed feeling your flesh jerks with animal agony because you’re beautiful beautiful words want to suck on them clatter on apple darkness secretly human the living and the dead don’t think so your face asking I did not train myself to love I wanted to be beyond feeling it will be just like old times I’ll tend to your business say something open wide First Darkness My six-year-old body was safe before that day The years before were sweet The years before were full of love Safe to launch boats in the blue road Safe to play in the red trees I was once a safe and happy girl Then I knew what it was to be forced to kneel To have pressure on the back of my head To have a choking in my throat And a voice saying Don’t You Want To Be A Good Girl Seashell One of the pink tear-sized seashells I picked for you escaped I carry it with me now How you pass through me Our hands in air, always just missing Always just almost I watch the Arabian Gulf holding my hollow seashell in my palm Wondering what kind of love I’ve earned
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