i don’t tell them / of the sawdust mouth / the sandpaper / curled like a / prawn or the clogged-up
/ throat / the gravel-flooded eyes / or how the / blue blood / rushes to my head / twitches and /
rolls / down my wrists / like violet tears / like / desert-dust / in / stead i / tell / them / of being /
dragged / nine feet under / water breath / less kicking and / screaming / with no room / to rise up
/ for air / i tell them / of the black seaweed that / catches / round the curve / of my throat /
pulverises my wind / pipe into snipped-out hearts / i tell them of the cockles / and oysters that /
catch on / to my finger /
tips; hooks tethering / me / to the ground / the tinfoil half-moons / i spill / from the cusp of / my lip
the / oily silver bubbles that / foam around / me like / pearls smooth / and round / the stars / that
shiver / over the face / of the water / clear and blue / and still and / silent / as death / i tell them /
to imagine a / windowless / room / and the / walls / closing / in on / you / like / fangs / i tell them /
it’s your soul / erupting / like a lotus / imploding / over the face / of water / before scattering / like
an ash / or / any / dead thing /
and / i tell them / it’s / not / poetry / but it / could be /
it could be
Nabiha Ali is sixteen years old, and lives in Lancashire. When she’s not writing poetry, she enjoys playing with her pet budgies and writing stories she knows she’ll never finish. This year, she has been shortlisted for the national BBC Young Writers Award with Cambridge University. She is also a recent winner in the 15-17 years of age category for the Solstice Prize for Young Writers.