Two poems by Munira Sayyid

The Haunting of Club Siren by Jane Doe

Beyond this door, I’ve lived a thousand lies.
I’ve met lusty stares and curious looks.
I’ve swayed sensuous, tucked away stray ringlets,
sat in deference and waited.
For the firm tug and my racing pulse
and those eyes; dark, forbidden depths.
I’m led into another room, another night,
by another man,
to forget that I have a choice, that I know better,
that I’m incomplete.
When a body is tied, the mind panics.
When a body is tied, the mind resists.
When a body is tied, the mind relents.
When a body is tied, the mind too stills.
Everything is sensation and soul,
every lungful is a cleansing.
I’m nothing but this void, that slowly fills,
waiting to gush abundantly
and smile at my captor with gratitude.
Instead, what I really do
is bow in reverence and say,
“Your drink, Sir.”



My golden years are behind me.
My lovelorn days are dead.
I wait for the caretaker of this tomb,
to tell him –
feast on this flesh.
These feet
that have traversed the world
yet remained unsoiled, unscathed.
These knees
that have folded
for neither love nor mercy.
These thighs
that have learned
only to hide pleasure.
This stomach
that may
or may not
have gorged.
This chest
that knows not the tide
of concern or relief.
These arms and wrists
that bear battle scars.
But this face,
swollen by the past,
has seen far too much
and feared even more.
In vain.

Even my demons have deserted me
the dead are no fun
to play with.

Munira Sayyid likes poetry but ends up writing more flash fiction. Sometimes, her tales manage to find a home. This is one of those instances.






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