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.