there is a little light at the end of the street by Afrah Shekh (19, United Arab Emirates)*

there is a little light at the end of the street
and it flickers like a man-made love.
it dies
and revives. tall shadows of gypsum gloom
slink closer in silence, far too little left to
haunt. the night hiccups slowly, but
there is no moonlight between cupped hands.
no serene lullabies hanging taut between
lovers, between flat plain-pain of empty breasts.
you carry sandalwood in your pockets and the
entire city stinks of the forbidden. listen to me
sometime; bathtub pipe dreams cemented in
cold glass, cold whistle. i carry far too much
rhapsody in milk bottles that rot on my counter-tops.
there is no space for you in my refrigerator
but sometimes, i wish for ice-cubes that taste like
you.
there is a little light at the end of the street
and now i'm switching it off.

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