dark-skinned
will the stars mistake
me for night
first date
pouring tea, he asks
my cup size
consent
the distance between the hem
and my knee
burqa
and yet
catcalls
an orchid
trapped in a paperweight
child bride
clean sheets
he wants me
to talk dirty
oversewing
the ripped lotus
daddy stitch
grafted rose
slowly becoming what
they want me to be
dementors
the way they say I’m
“just a housewife”
gutting fish
my daughter says she doesn’t want
to be like me