Annanda’s Work
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: February 6, 2005

Apr. 10, 2000
I imagine you
with your white
button-up shirt
to have black
raven-angel wings
hiding there
shining with darkness
after the dust quivers off
and the crackling of a forgotten door
and the furious calming sound of pigeons
flapping up into the church rafters
has hushed.
You tell me my hair
reminds you of the dark forest
where stars and fireflies sleep
and that my shoulderblades
are the beginnings of wings

Apr. 26,2000
so ravenous
are the syrupy rays
which spread themselves thick
upon your lashes,
paint themselves
sumptuously onto your skin
and drip from the end of your fingertips
like they drip from the sun itself
My hunger
is for the same privilege:
to paint myself onto your skin
warm and golden
and to be the last drop
of light
before beginning a warm blink.
To be the cause of
the slow blink of sensual overdose
a multifaceted prism spinning on a thread in the window
a stretch
an eyelid–
tangerine bright and flickering with
trees and swings and other slow blinks.
Those rays who traveled so far to find you.