things that cannot be By Phusathi Liyanaarachchi

things that cannot be

you cloth me again
circle me
with conch linen
of a bed stripped naked

for skin on skin

for prayer parched lips

for things that cannot be

you circle and then
you stop
facing me
—no white elephants—
eyes bare—hands empty—lips blue—
as blue as the earth that I moved
the first time

just to hold your hand

By Phusathi Liyanaarachchi


Phusathi Liyanaarachchi is a poet from Sri Lanka. She graduated with a BA (Hons) in English from the University of Colombo. Her work has previously appeared in Love in the Time of Covid: A Chronicle of the Pandemic and Indian Literature. She is currently seeking a home for her debut poetry collection, ‘Becomes Water’.

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