Agitated Air [Months pass. A year. You’re here still]

Months pass. A year. You’re here still
haunting what we had, scratching
the phantom limb. Again’s not

some retrievable rush, it’s what
you can hope for: revolution
or another poem. The staircase
home’s a tragic shape.

All we can do is spiral,
describe the loops and watch
the epicentre dim.

What’s left? A bowl of vapour.
Questions. Lights. A love that made you
see things.


From Agitated Air: Poems After Ibn Arabi (Tenement Press, 2022) by Yasmine Seale and Robin Moger. Copyright © 2022 by Yasmine Seale and Robin Moger. Used with the permission of the authors.