Decided to have this conversation with you with myself as testament and genesis, saw you in the first light of my sleep, awakening past hills of sheets and folds of skin to find that I was second in line, standing with a heart shaped wooden bowl, filling it with words and cinema tickets and smiles and peppermint and jokes and stolen hugs and unfinished songs and promises of peppermint and hope and tomorrows we knew we would not see, had no eyes for it, hearts are clouds who only know it’s raining when they burst, are monsoons and torrents, never meant to flood your house I never meant to flood your house but now that I know your inner rooms how can I ever fall asleep, in this cold line, with my wooden heart shaped bowl, waiting, for a little food, some water, and a smile of sun that made me wish I was father to your many dreams that run barefoot and naked on wooden or tiled floors mumbling the nothings of first word attempts, I will learn to plait their hair, I will wake by night to calm fevers and rub their feet with oil and whisper prayers to my God to keep them safe, and I will watch you by day and by night, and any hand that lay on you would have to seek membership again, but I am daydreaming, here, in this line with my wooden heart shaped bowl, filled with all these treasures it seems I no longer have use for. I miss you from the bottom of the bottom of this bottomless heart. I cannot leave you alone.
•••Muhammad Muwakil is a 25-year-old aspiring poet from Trinidad and Tobago. He performed at Calabash 2007 and is currently in the process of publishing his first book. He is a final year student at UWI pursuing a BA in Literatures in English and a minor in International Relations.