from pixabay
A stale banana and cold
Winter slips off a patio one sunny morning.
It turns white on the ground.
Everything else hits differently.
No blood oozes out of its skin.
The fractures of sun make it weep
till it drowns in its tears.
A banana stalls in a fruit bowl.
Dark spots tear some parts
exposing what’s left of the flesh.
On the inside too it rots and bleeds.
First, cold enters the skin then aims
at the heart and before you know
grief is all over you.
Cold in a plastic container,
cold on a wood plank patio,
open, open before the sunny winter morning.
Kitchen Spices
What more can I add to this soup?
Mother teaches to hold the ladle at an angle.
My arm sweats from turning over and over.
I forget about the salt again, anyway.
How much salt in the cellar holds up a kitchen?
The leaves turn raw turmeric in October,
burning paprika on the dying trees.
I notice the air fills with crunchiness
and we empty our bowls without a word,
not saying how soups fill us only so far.
My stomach churns as I toss in the bed
keeping whatever remains in my body.
Morning finds the numbness in the arms,
sometimes tingling down the fingertips.
Bio: Sana Tamreen Mohammed has co-authored Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems (BRP, Australia). A poet, an imagist and now a mother, her works have found homes in various journals, magazines and anthologies including Tupelo Press, The Peeking Cat Poetry and Dreich Magazine. She has edited The Prose and Poetry Anthology. She was a featured poet on a radio show in India. Her poems were displayed twice in Illinois. As a driftwood, she reads and selects submissions for EKL Review.
Fevers of the Mind 