Whistling Mummy
Noise in the shape
Of words whistling
Contorted into
Breath that smells
Of death approaching
Slowly sour
Patching memories
Only she can enter
DarklyMummy no longer
She’s an old woman
Without teeth
Who makes strange
Mockery of a love
Strained in the
Best of timesMonsters are
Our shadows
On walls etched
With the grief of
AngerI find I cannot
Leave anything
Behind I fear
Neither can
SheWho must be
Obeyed
In this broken
World we
Share I
Wonder if death
Will break us
apart shatteringComfort
a thought which
Is also a
Hope
The ties that bind
might set us both
Free as sheWanders into
My dreams turning
The lock each nightEvery night
I hold my breathWondering how long
She canby Fawzia Afzal-Khan
