Sleepwalking

By Noor Zohdy

Sleepwalking, memories, linen crinkles the horizon and I see her.

Bracelets loose around her pale frosted wrists,

Translucent fingertips hardly touch colours as they flake.

Turning silent through the blue, wilted bluebells dripping silver red,

Watching them drip —

branches, frost flowers crystallising the weightless flicker.

Delicate skates cutting the ice and she falls. Careless sounds

and the dark hair lost in seaweed, long sank beneath the water’s edge.