Piece 1: Newest Friend
Piece 2: Untitled
Words by Nathalyn Nunoo
Magazine | Issue 03
Newest Friend
I feel magical
In this little brain of mine
The kettle is on
And the steam is pouring
Out into the air
In wisps of waltzing mist
And soft pleasure
How nice and quiet it is
In this apartment
Warm in the city
Of life and dreams
How content is my self,
Bursting at the seams
Buzzed with energy and
Kindness and grace
Cleanliness and freshly washed
Linen sheets,
Minty fresh, hot ginger tea,
Silky honey on the sides of
This navy mug
That hugs
The insides of my palms.
My newest friend is peace.
Untitled
Me and God have come to an agreement
I can smell the cassava burning on the stove
Eat tilapia twice a day
I can wring my hands and feel the skin
Slither its way between my palms
I can lean and sway
I can dance, burn my thighs a certain way
To the sound of a South African anthem
In a West African dialect
I can wish I spoke the dialect, then speak to the trees instead,
that pawpaw swinging on the wall of Mommy’s house
in the hills, amongst the fray of fallen leaves and decay
I can smell the air full of humid and soot
and eat sugar bread: that sweet, buttery something
I can feel the turn in my stomach
Turning, turning in the bed
Me and God have come to an agreement
Nathalyn Nunoo is a ceramic artist, writer and host of a writers collective and open mic, Nest, in Bushwick, NYC. In her writing she uses mundane vignettes and memory to explore aspects of home, the body and vulnerability. She has led the publishing of three poetry anthologies that include writings and artworks from over 25 contributors, and has published an autobiographical chapbook of poems, Siren. She lives in Brooklyn, NY.