POETRY

Oumayma Boumhali, Class of 2017 

THE GIRL WITH THE BLUE CASHMERE COAT 

On a cold November night, I saw 

A girl with a blue cashmere coat 

Escorted by a broken umbrella Leaving an old music venue 

Bearing contradictions of a homeland 

And undressing her short black hair 

Unconcerned by the rain 

Gracefully guided by the lonely street lamps 

But when the music got lost 

The girl with the blue cashmere coat 

Suddenly stopped 

Like an unforgiven Sunday afternoon 

Purposely drawing her shade on the road 

She was drunk on her own thoughts 

And could barely remember to walk 

Caught between the warmth of her coat 

And the unpredictable weather 

She gave in to the closest wall

She, who only knew living under the sun, 

Was humbled by the dark

Failing to know

That the light that betrayed her 

Was sacrificed for her renaissance 

CONDOLENCES TO GOD 

I shall surrender to my melodramatic euphoria 

And advertise pleasure 

In the sophistication of your betrayal 

I shall authorize the sensuality of hatred 

In the charm of your eyes 

In the name of the fires in me 

I shall give in to the complexities of fantasy 

And the absurdity of lust 

Where I am your only musical instrument 

Seeking the harm of a solicity 

I shall be drunk on solfege 

Selflessly sinking in the poetry of my words 

Summarizing hectic dreams 

In the blank space between your arms 

And the possessive silence 

That I see in your eyes 

I’d like to withdraw my memories 

And apologize to the nudity of my feelings 

For a passion left indiscrete 

And words left unexplained 

I shall be an angry wave breaking on the seashore 

Of a cold skin and a selfish touch 

Crucified by a westerly wind 

Brutally injured, but not dead

I shall suffer the fragility of my acts 

And the thirst for a voyage 

Forever incomplete

Forever pleading guilty 

For sins, yet to be committed

A BOTTLE SCRIPT 

Am I drunk? you asked. 

Am I high? 

Yes, I am 

Drunk it is, in a world full of sobriety I am drunk and high 

And my substances are far more dangerous 

Far more destructive 

Prompting an imagination

So vivid, so uncanny

I am drunk on sentiment 

And high on thoughts

Of a being, provoked by questioning,

Silenced by a desire to feel

In all brutal and calm forms

Oh yes, I am drunk, and do not wish to sober up 

So, let me Let me drink of my glass, and yours

And that of others,

It’s just standing there,

No one is drinking it anyways

Never leave a glass full,

Empty it, empty the whole bottle 

And then have some more if you wish 

Sobriety is dull

Let us all be drunk, 

Drunk on life, on silence 

Drunk on the foreign music 

Composed of notes we don’t understand 

Let it speak to us 

There is no place else we need to be 

But now, and here 

At the gaze of our own being 

And yes, I am high, 

High on you 

High on us, 

High on the complexity of belonging 

Quietly assumed by a tango 

We shared

High on an instance of surrender

In which our bodies are mapped together 

Becoming one single continent 

A country we never visited

So, let us be,

Yet but another apology

To a world sobered up by greed Let us be drunk

Let us get high ...