volcanic

Nadia Farjami

 

the moss is

salt-water veins, is green-blue clots;

 

it covers my flesh, but not enough— the man,

wolf, still growls

 

there’s something about his voice, volcanic

like a shot

 

glass of

vanity and vodka—cold-

 

blooded, he comes closer;

i cry, no

 

but he buries my

ballads beneath

 

his breath like

second-hand smoke;

 

he wants ignite and inhale me,

but i will not burn

 

 

***

Nadia Farjami is a poet from Southern California. Her work has been recognized by The New York Times, Cathexis Northwest Press, High Shelf Press, The Esthetic Apostle, The National Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, Prometheus Dreaming, Polyphony LIT, Youth Poet Laureate, Body Without Organs Literary Journal, Marmalade Magazine, Cagibi Literary Journal, The Athena Review, and more.