Amphora

oh, jinn, leave my love alone–
he hides you in his heart, but this stark

 

daylight climbs your every shadow.
we cannot wish you away, you are on

 

display in the tender tendrils of this
bending trellis we thought we trained up.

 

oh, jinn, the more we plant evergreen
foliage, the more shadows and dry spells

 

curl toward our toes and into the slits

of our home. we see how you slither, adapt,

 

cracking our calmness, disrupting his joy,
toy with him, flaunting blue shades of hostility.

 

I’m full of grief, my heaving chest wondering
when you will leave, when he will be free

 

from your evil spirit. I hear it, hating. unable to claim
the day as good. unable to say he is worthy

 

of peace, release. almost every day hurts.
bees circle purple jacarandas, tracing

 

each blossoming lip, and I sit, straining
to enjoy it. drained from digging your grave, jinn.

​

 I keep looking up, around, hoping to find
my sweet spot, calm the buzz in my head,

 

pluck the sting from his skin. he no longer feels
you anymore, what you do to him. the numbness:

 

here he is, wilting like you wanted. how many damn
wishes are left? your perennial. his prison. the infliction

 

 on him: insectile, scorched with soreness that fires us
both up. we ache to light you, bake you in your own lamp,

 

lull you back into centuries of solitude.
oh, leave him be, jinn–oh, leave my love be.

​

​

​

Daniela Paraguya Sow is an Assistant Professor of English and a Creative Writing
Program Co-Coordinator at Grossmont College. She has an M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing
(Poetry) from San Diego State University, and her writing has been published in San Diego
Poetry Annual, A Cappella Zoo, Encompassing Seas, Overachiever Magazine, Mixed Asian
Media, and City Works Press. You can reach her at daniela.p.sow@gmail.com and on Twitter:
@daniela_sow.