poetry by amatan noor

One Sleep Until Portland

Silken coil of a love’s hair makes it past airport security  It shines  Makes me wonder what element on my body transforms matter to threat and question why the strand in all of  its glistening twine was spared in this instance what turns the love I give into danger a catastrophe  I am cautious in all departures disposal comes easy when the body has been taught to surrender on repeat unseen surveillance  unforeseen heartaches will detach you from your marrow faster than any fracture I wear stolen safety like heirlooms                        torn-cloth passages staged snug       Sometimes I leave myself  when my heart wants to linger the most Wonder if this is what all the traveling is for  The running past tenderness is disposal of the self; of threat Except I am to only run into myself   How foolish I am to not  measure distance in shared breaths to become stiff at softness flinch at kindness  I will try my hardest to forget  the softest I have ever sounded has been in his mouth  because I’m afraid he will pack up his kind and  take with him what remains of    my hard earned soft  So I will say this won’t last I will not last in smooth stillness One more sleepless night until Portland Flight has always been my safest softest landing 

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 or is forthcoming on No, Dear magazine, Stone of Madness, The South Shore Review, Thimble, and elsewhere.