still life

Samiah Haque

glasses of water
half filled
there is a feeling of ripened mango
here, on your fingers and slick
on a knife
we talk of great tragedy
over a cup of tea and
over a sticky bowl
every object asks a question
you want unanswered or watches
you worship the still the deep
while curled up lie peels
arranging private conceits
as the sweet flesh lulls you to sleep.