Across the Sea From Home

Emma Ibrahim


In a house with bare white walls
          crow’s feet nestle grey eyes
          and white hair fades to blue.
Lipstick stains a chipped front tooth
          and rubs between lips like satin.
While the leaky faucet drip-drop-drips
          the television flashes in silence.
Grey eyes can’t leave the soundless screen
          and the bullets that fall like rain.
And so worry beads fly between fingers
          a whir of blue blue indigo blue
          in a house with bare white walls
          across the sea from home.


Emma Ibrahim's friends would not think to look for her here.