First Prize: Nabiha Ali, mirror in [virginia's room] circa 1919

NABIHA ALI

First Prize - 2024 Tower Poetry Competition, 'Mirror'

mirror in [virginia's room] circa 1919

[virginia]      chooses only the best mirrors    tall and worn    .     [virginia] buys me           from the                                      
        antique store             for half the price haggles                  with the [elderly bastard] behind
the counter            .        [virginia] knows how                 to put up a good fight and now       [she]
is showing it  .       when we get home [virginia]                 draws o p e n the curtains so the light
          filters through          :       white     partition in scalp      ;          I notice          the room
  smells of pinecone and            year old mothballs and perhaps            I am drunk but [virginia]
doesn't                   seem to notice            .        I want [virginia]             to hold me for a while
skin         crackling like      fibres in a plastic cup          .        now I am sloping downwards       
and the ceiling cradles me [virginia]              pushes me back like an eyelid to flatten            [her]
       hair           .      I admire the soft tilt of         [virginia's] eyebrows the gentle              
curvature of [her] chin when         [she] moves to      light a cigarette its slow         flame guttering 
        in   darkness      .     I     notice [virginia] stands to write not out of              necessity but    
 purely       out of habit   .    how the       blue light rests          against the crevices of   [her body]
.     when [virginia]      pauses to open     a window I see how        earrings of light spiral
downwards like             turquoise leaves contorting into             slow        blank       nothingness 
.      [virginia] tells me that it's okay to be cliche that             sometimes what [people] are looking     
  for             most is always   the expected     . [she] says this half     undressed sighs at      the 
red      im  prints where [her]          [bastard brothers]          r a n  their hands down          the
curvature      of [her waist]     line     . later [virginia] practises    singing shoulders swaying as
though        cocooned in the    softness of [her] own voice       . spring       wanes to a swollen
orange and  me     and     [virginia] look up    at constellations     ;  [virginia]      closes      [her
eyes] counts to ten      each time [she] traces the outline of        the big dipper       .     [virginia]
cries    into     [her]     pillow each night    eyes red as lobsters       .      darkness cracks over us
like a soap   sud and      
 I watch [virginia] bite [her nails]        down to the quick          the flesh unravel          from 
             [her bones] in    paper      thin tendrils       .        [virginia's] worries        conform    to 
  spheres and r o l l     across the floor like marbles  .        plums fall to       colour and     stain
[her] cheeks     .        [her bare feet] patter across the floorboards       with      the same sound I 
             yearn       to tell people I love them with    .   I want to watch        [virginia]       p e e l  
 apart      a   clementine     golden dew and     sticky yarn clinging        to the earth of        [her
finger]      tips want     to watch [her]         fall into my mouth    open palmed     and weeping      
        and me undulating clean    as water     .       summer comes and [virginia]       darts back
and forth     a c r o s s  the hallway        falls finally      into the hot lull of        [her own body]      .
        [virginia]        brushes         palm oil and jasmine          into [her] freshly washed hair sat      
   cross legged before me       .       [virginia] fills vases          with wine red perennials presses       
a stale finger       against the greasy wallpaper        tuts sighs      . at night [virginia]         folds 
me to her        like    a prayer     .    [virginia] arranges and re      arranges [her book]    collection
not according         to height or colour but         always alphabetically     . [virginia]        dusts the
walls          and ceiling standing on ti        ptoe neck arched like an ostrich. look at me       .     I'm
from the time          when you       still    bore   the   sea            on your     back        knee    caps
stained         and ashen and                     your beautiful dark hair      juxtaposed          against the
moon and           you        still bathed           with     your mouth wide open                      feet 
  stubbornly    a p a r t      :     I am the reason       you're still alive     . some      times       when
[virginia] is             stood  writing     I will watch [her pause]       to throw open           the window
        in a frenzy         b l o w  a kiss 
                                                    
        to (no one in particular)