Autumn Sky Poetry . . . Number 22 . . .
 

Noir

     by Hala N. Alyan



She climbs

into the bed, half-


asleep, hair

glistening, heart din


furious. The clock reads

three a.m. She settles


into the fetal

position, whispering something


about a fire and an angry

man with smoke


for lips. It jars

the room, this marble


vulture that is

Miriam’s fear.


Tiny slope of shoulders. Fingers

that still curl in sleep.


She sighs, little girl. She brims with God.










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Hala N. Alyan has lived in various parts of the Middle East and the United States. Currently, she resides in Brooklyn, where she is pursuing a doctoral degree.


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© 2011 Hala N. Alyan