dumb beasts, erotic poetry, kafir, piercing you to your womb, poem, Poetry, slow burn, sonnet, your hips' fleece
“Hair is a nakedness,” your mother taught ––
which is why you kept yours veiled. And, “never
bring home white boys or kafirs.” Those were fraught
times. If schisms can start from mere fractures
after school ran riot in my bedroom ––
as inch by heathen inch pushed past your hips’ fleece;
a slow burn in piercing you to your womb ––
Your hair bare. Our flesh awash in sweat, grease
and cum. “When I graduate,” you said, “She’ll
send me home.” She’d pledged you to a cousin.
“Three months!” you cried. We rampaged in secret.
We were dissent’s loving revolt. “Yesh, spill
your seed … on my face!” Three months of heathen
bliss, like what the dumb beasts do when they rut.
Kafir is a derogatory term in Islamic tradition and refers to a non-Muslim.