I don’t hope for hibiscus

by Naazneen Diwan

the first time I was given a cup
of flower essence it was hot,

unsweetened, red like lovers
clotted in my veins. slid down

the column of my throat
like a thread to mend the

ruptures. its steady tartness
replaced my blood, flushed

free every time I blushed so
you could see me. the first

time I was given a cup of flower
essence its sour revived me from

reverie loosened me from trance,
from storms I’d rehearse daily.

I woke up a drained riverbed,
damp and sifting for silt.

I woke up my love a different shade
darker than the bottomless color

cupped in my hands darker
than the hollow of two bodies.

I woke up and chose mud over blossoms
oxygen over rain clouds. this slow healing

over hemorrhage.

NAAZNEEN DIWAN is a queer, Muslim poet and social justice educator. She founded Maktoub Collective and has been an Artist-in-Residence and a Lead Instructor for Baldwin House Urban Writing Residency hosted by Twelve Literary Arts in Cleveland. She attended Art Omi writers’ residency and will be attending the VONA Summer 2021 workshops. She created Kalaashakti healing arts and meditation workshops with Muslim women in both Gujarat, India and in California. Her poetry and prose can be found in the following journals, among others, Southern Humanities Review, Entropy Mag, The Yale Review, iō Literary Journal, Sky Island Journal, Cathexis Press, Serendipity Journal, and Flypaper Magazine. She just completed her first poetry manuscript, Make a Season of Me, and is working on a flash fiction collection called Walas. https://www.naazneendiwan.com/