Scherezade Siobhan

Musafir (Traveler) / His Gesthemane

Scherezade Siobhan

Share Via:



musafir (traveler)

you come to the stillwaters of sleep bowstrung
against the upturned gondola of my backbone

your tongue of persian pink magnolia; a teacup
of maraschino martini splashing against the table

cloth. what intoxication inches through the paraffin
pillars flickering their oeuvres at the romanesque

altars. you too, votive; slender as the wick dilating 
between dreaming and drowning. between descent

& downfall. this is you; curled into a crescent comma
the wax-worn genuflection of a polynesian tree snail

unaware of the rainclouds herded above its nautilus
grail. above this arboreal intimacy. its knitted trail.

i leave you to your somnolent curve; your soundless
cove. i separate the geometry of the angles your

achilles’ heels cut into the plain lines tautened from
my legs. i place the needle on debussy’s piano solo

a faint music yawns its limbs against the dutch-made
dollhouse. you and i; the gap from balcony to bed

i peer into the wet hazel of a horizon untying its hair 
inside the the hammocks strung from last night’s fishnets

i look back; you appear alabaster - a basilica broken 
to ground. your tree-torso. your statue’s cloven marble

you are spread between bible & babel. language fails me
as i turn into daylight crushed beneath your turn of breath

here i am, sitting by the window of each false hope
your scent-trove, your second skin, your creased shirt

here i am, once again in Otherland, your wedding band
shredding vows - praying: i love you with all my heart hurt



his gesthemane 

the body beneath him, sheathed muslin;
bare-skinned acres of palmyra
& like that red sand she passes 
through the colander of his clutch

he hooks his ankle 
into her achilles’ heel;
a nest of dactyls
where the last nightingale 
is still  incantatory

this lovesick, love-making
this birdfeast breaking
across their battle-lines

who remembers now
what was said before 
this twin-limbed euphoria
only that she lettered each
conch of his ear-cove as 

he shattered in a chant of
godnames she beds him with

in sleep, she clings 
to the slanted bell towers
of his shoulder-blades

he muses the rattle 
in this asp. he muses 
the switchblade in this 
symphony. if she is music
or massacre. if they are 

flesh moulded into forgiveness
or a dire vendetta of epiphanies

he wants to bereave
every single woman in her
who was hunted and gathered,
stolen speechless before the season

a centennial of elegies for 
the past lives she hasn’t yet been
erased from. the hydra-headed 
nightmares she still shudders into.

in this moment he folds her within him
harbours her hells, her skulking disasters.
this, he repeats, is togetherness -

this sweat-salt of regrets
his antidote & bête noir
his clouded eye 

waits for a rain
that will softly river 
him to her




Scherezade Siobhan


Scherezade Siobhan is world's finest maker of Spanish omelets. She is of Indian/Roma Spanish/Afghan origins. Her work is published or will be appearing in tnyPress, Bluestem, Words Dance, The Nervous Breakdown, Gutter Eloquence, Black and Blue Writing, Winter Tangerine amongst others. She is Best of the Net and Pushcart Part prize nominee for writing as well as a former features editor for Globalcomment. Her first poetry collection "Bone Tongue" was released by Thought Catalog Books in 2015. She can be found squealing about football, psychology and small furry animals at www.viperslang.tumblr.com or attwitter.com/zaharaesque.