Three Stages of Not-Love


I melt

candle wax on clavicle traversing collarbone hills of uncertainties

pluck the wick out myself and it hurts less and less each time

My dexterity is commendable extracting from what wants to stay but cannot

like follicles of hair around the nipple and lingering scents of lovers not meant to be


I am not saying I want to fall in love

What I mean is the nights feel so grotesquely cold when the world is set to a righteous, violent blaze

And lackluster orgasms layered with lazy smiles lack warmth but I am fine, really


One day I will love a revolutionary whose spirits have not yet been trampled by the ruling class

And my love and I will run across rice paddies of childhood

Before Bangladesh is submerged entirely in water

Amatan Noor

Amatan Noor is a queer Bangladeshi Muslim poet residing in Brooklyn. Her work explores the intersections of survival, Islam and diaspora. Her work has been published on No, Dear magazine, Stone of Madness, Brown Girl and elsewhere.