By Muna Mir
In January I dreamt you’d been resurrected.
Walking through the woods,
I watched the colours shift
For the first time
When the sun hit your eyes.
The clenching of my stomach, the serpent
Wrapped twice around my chest,
Tempting and stifling. The memory
Of restraint
When the sun rubbed
At your temples. Smooth skin
And your golden hair
Falling over
That temple.
I’d only noticed
The colour of your eyes
The week before.
How often I have regretted
Not noticing sooner, not
Nailing you to a cross
To stare at your eyes forever