Ronia Ibrahim
The jade-coloured belly of a fern frond
(In a story book)
the jade-coloured belly of a fern frond
is lapsing through someone else’s
earliest memory: lotus eyes
jasmine
becomes relevant later on.
(At the doctor’s)
unfurling my sleeve
releasing
a summer of hens.
Think of the colour you think about when you think about her
Think of the colour of the sunhat
(In a forgotten dream)
she is bathing me in yellow dish soap
‘怎么可能?’ she exclaims
but I don’t know / I don’t know
the scene vanishes
like the evaporation of fish soup
like the black-glass eyeballs becoming
bony pearls among the radish
cracking in-between my aunt’s molars
and it ends with a lingering scent –
laughter among drying lavender.
(The night before)
watching her expel chi
in front of the TV
burning Syria
illuminating her.
(In a déjà vu moment)
the 阿媽 on the bus that looks like your own –
her lips are so similar to the feeling of
accidentally swallowing
a berry drop.
Ronia Ibrahim is a writer and interdisciplinary artist who lives in Naarm. Her poetry and non fiction have been published in Starling, Stasis Journal, The Pantograph Punch, Newsroom, Turbine|Kapohau, The Spinoff and Overland. She is very good at watching birds and making a mess.