Published in Diaspora Daughter / Diaspora Dyke zine and Bahr Magazine, Issue 2.

Diaspora Daughter / Diaspora Dyke

I bear the fruits and flowers of home.
Habibti sighs, savours her harvest.

Habibti sighs, savours her harvest.
Tells me my blood must smell of roses.

My blood must taste of sun-soaked hedge roses.
Our first gen bodies know light like season.

Ripening abundance always in season.
Her bursting fruit, her fragrant waters.

My bursting fruit, her fragrant waters.
Strawberry patch forearm, my lush takes her.

Strawberries and cream shisha, I taste her.
Macerated femme fruit between tongues.

Gardens and maps out of sweet syrup tongues.
Our young borderless bodies showing me home.