by Amir Bouanane

she bought two bottles of raindrops—
matched the evening with a light.

drowning rituals, exhales for past
-time; in every game—an outcome.

the memory vendor omits
this part—

it doesn’t undo the feeling of
ghost company. death too can

be a bargain, like the words
“if suddenly,” followed by

pause. then who is it that comes to
collect the bottles; why is it, now, when

i press my ear to the world, i am starved
to the sound of everyone living without

me.

Listen to Amir read “October Silhouette”

Amir Bouanane is a New York City based, Moroccan-American poet, writer, artist and life observer who finds comfort in the gentle magic of words—through which he aspires to translate the soul imbued in scenes of life to give others a measure of catharsis or amenity.

Image credit: “Bottle,” Bruce Osborn. Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.