in the magic sunlight I kiss puppies in their sweet little daydreams and I become sweet but not as sweet as the pups I become sweet enough that my sucrose tongue rolls itself into a loop and I get boys to jump through it just to see if they fit and they do I go to bed with wild satisfaction and the night is bandaged and no longer bruised / like those thoughts I beat black and purple in my brain
I stare out the window of a walgreens in queens new york the way sugar dissolves into water and my cousins ask me if I am awake and I shrug because how am I supposed to know what waking is if I can see clouds shaped like people and people shaped like coat buttons in my lucid dreams / my fingers still ache from pulling at them
with my mother’s curtain buckle clamped on my eager wrist I wait for my skin to break thinking that daughters are like warm Guyana tea scum a forgotten film melted upon everyone’s comfort just another tarp over a boiling hot tongue-numbing water sugar chai and milk / keeping all the hotness in and waiting to pour waiting to shudder
like those thoughts I beat black and purple in my brain / my fingers still ache from pulling at them / keeping all the hotness in and waiting to pour waiting to shudder / waiting to bubble / pop everything apart into flecks of melting dirt / or maybe it is chocolate / the only difference is in the sweetness / you will only know when / if / you taste it
Hadiyyah Kuma is a writer from Toronto. Among other accomplishments, she has curated a playlist of restaurant sounds because she is soothed by indiscernible chatter. Find Hadiyyah on Instagram and Twitter, where she tries her best to be quirky and relatable.