by Sophia Al-Banaa

the women dress in black,

their swarovski-crystalled abayas float

through the breeze of diwaniya doors

as they lean to plant two symmetrical kisses on

edges of each face. collarbones are singed with

blessings of bukhoor smoke, smudged in honeyed oud

known before its bottling by tom ford. umi’s body was

washed the day of her death, wrapped in a white cloth

purer than praying hands of men who memorized

the feel of a woman’s bare skin. when she was buried

they cried for 3 days, kohl dripping from eyelids,

marking hollowed cheekbones, offerings

of chai haleeb refused, mourning lips shut.

when a woman dies where does she go? she sleeps

on pillowing clouds: a bleeding sunset, jannah stained pink,

a garden of never-ending rivers, her thobe replaced by threads of silk.

instead she is told, it is to Him
we return.

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Sophia Al-Banaa is an Arab-American Muslim woman, whose work intimately explores her dual identity & the human condition as a whole. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in SWWIM, Stone of Madness Press, Ghost Heart Lit, dreams walking, Versification & elsewhere. Her twitter handle is @safeeyiah, and her website is sophialbanaa.com.