Noli me tangere

In endless childhood-idle hours I taught myself to
pierce the air with tongue, teeth and fingers
sound owl hoots from cupped hands
blow raspberries from a grass blade
throw a yoyo
tap dance
and
arch each brow at will and eloquently.

Now muffled under dense protective layers,
I draw on the old skills
with a dainty travel step,
or side-mount with my string bag.
And when patience wears,
the black flash of my best Bette Davis,
the warning whiplash
to all who dare
encroach on
my
two
metres.

Marka Rifat

 

Marka Rifat writes poems, stories, articles and plays. In 2020, she had work in 18 anthologies in the UK and US. She lives in Aberdeenshire in Scotland.

Listen to Marka reading Noli me tangere (0:59)


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