Dandelion Screams

It is all kicks and no scream, this
August
Rubbles lodge at my throat and
I prepare for new deposits with half a
smile
Erupting rashes days after he left,
I self-soothe my body with aloe vera
and
Klonopin that is losing tranquil in its
prescribed dose
The rashes are from stress and not
estrangement; this I am sure of
I am trying. I pick fresh mint but wake
too fatigued to make the tea
blow on heads of dandelions wishing
he changed his mind
watch bees caress white clovers on
overgrown grass at Fort Greene Park
Wonder if they mourn loss of precious
time pollinating the things no one
marvels at
Secretly, I wish each clover is a lover
the bees took in the early spring
Say a prayer for a love that tender
When the reds on my body mushroom
into restlessness,
I urinate on pregnancy tests in four
different public restrooms and
heave until all of me flare into a siren
The child I would have rid my belly of
It is the scorching heat, the culprit;
not his scorched-earth exit
He is not to blame
The bad men I know perpetuate
harm by
kicking down doors and
their screams leave behind a wreckage
They make their presence known
How could he be at fault?
At his most wrongful,
he was silent
At his most thoughtless,
he is absent

Amatan Noor is a Bangladeshi Muslim poet. She is a project manager at a purpose-driven digital media agency. Amatan was nominated for a pushcart prize in 2021. She has performed at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe and Brooklyn Museum among other venues. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming on No, Dear Magazine, Thimble, The South Shore Review. Stone of Madness, Postscript and elsewhere. Amatan lives in Brooklyn.