Madrigal F. has a penchant for writing words that are kept under a shell. She is a 24 year old Middle Eastern writer who greatly favours experimental poetry styles and short prose. Her dream is to one day be showcased in the New York Times.
Aniseed tea, butterscotch, blackcurrants
felt more humble on our lips
when they were handed out at funerals.
We were laying like grass stalks
encased by our halo hair,
the air offering us no words of solace
The Sun on our lips
omitting a final darkness,
and we swallowed it down.
Every morsel tasted different..
They called out my name,
but I wanted to watch the clouds part.