Poetry by a a khaliq
it’s a good thing You can hear me over the blasting Punjabi song
and the whipping wind and the occasional honk (must have missed
the memo that 10 over the speed limit is the new speed limit).
does it annoy You that we just jump into prayer? or is it silly to ask
how Your day went, since it’s not exactly something You could tell, or
i could understand? it’s the thought that counts, probably. love you.
i feel closest to you like this, the ground immaterial beneath me
and the sky opening in every direction. it is a chill and a shiver
all at once, a feeling i can’t reach very often when i prostrate
or lift my hands up on the prayer rug, but when i do, it turns
my legs to jello. the halal kind, obviously. do You remember
when i crossed over from claustrophobia to freedom? i don’t.
i’m forgetful lately. i know, once, that sitting behind the wheel
felt like a game of russian roulette, and no pounding music
could drive out the thought of one quick smash into oblivion.
not very good of me, huh? we don’t even have a void, just a
long wait until it’s time to account. no elevator music, either.
not to be a horse girl, but i think the only thing that could make
the long drive under Your eye better would be experiencing
horsepower the way it was intended. or even more primally.
just corded muscle releasing tension in frantic gallops, hooves
kicking up dust and clods of the dead wheat-colored grass.
a stallion must love You better than any of us could. so wild,
so free, so fast. it’s what i loved about the dreamy autopilot
period while commuting somewhere. thank you, implicit
memory, for doing your thing and letting me float out of
the driver’s seat, out of the Toyota, off the highway and up
into the sky, vacillating between hot air balloons or lost
birthday balloons. two twos. another year i didn’t expect.
it’s a good thing i have You, and this invisible golden thread
pulling me straight up. not as retro as a puppet/puppeteer;
perhaps a divine landline. 24/7 i call and You pick up, no
dial tone. just a seamless click and talk talk talk. no talk
backs, no take backs, no well-meaning advice and no
suffocating worry. ah, You know how i love a chat.
a a khaliq is a medical student from the midwest. when she isn’t baking complicated little desserts or catching up on sleep, you can find her on twitter @aw0000ga.