the underside of my foot / splintered
a shard of glass / buried beneath
beads of sand / & warmth
coursed / through the opening
meek / as though running
into the many rooms / of memory
in the distance / children carved
craters / a buoyant afternoon
breeze / the shape of pain
welcome / in my indulgent life
on fatimah’s beads / i counted
till ninety-nine / morsels
of supplication / & waves
foamed / to the surface / the skin
on my right foot / pliant
as a peach / & my body longing
for more than / these repetitions
i have always / demanded
more / from this world
while having / more than most

one day / i will pay / for this

Aiman Tahir Khan