How to Extinguish a Shotgun Wedding by Farah Ghafoor

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How to Extinguish a Shotgun Wedding

and the irony of a cold kitchen.
the wood adjusting itself for the fire
with a poker between its teeth.
smoke rises in rings faster than she could say
the wedding cake is aflame and I can’t find the bride.

words are overtaken by the kettle’s rumble,
screaming like a pretty girl tied to train tracks.
you think she is younger than you.
dressed in white with straw spread like a halo
around her face, no small ocean crawling out of her eyes

there is no White Western hero in sight.

the date is undecided and your hands shake
like invertebrates at the doctor’s office.
your names is called and swept up
like a river, an open mouth.
It dries up and leaves the fish

Farah Ghafoor

Farah Ghafoor is a fifteen-year-old poet and a founding editor at Sugar Rascals, an online teen literary magazine. She believes that she deserves a cat and/or outrageously expensive perfumes, and can’t bring herself to spend pretty coins. Her work is published in places like alien mouth, Really System and Synaesthesia, and has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. Find her online at