Heartache | Ribbons by Kim Suttell

Briana Naseer | On Watching The Last of Us, Alone

I’m almost mad at myself for it,
the way I move through the world
when a man (my man)
is by my side.

His big hand has my small one in it,
and this was my design—

to craft myself with a someone
who could take up the space
I can’t, a doubling—

the space that I have been
denied.

I only notice it when he’s gone,
the way I check my doors with care,
like a sister braiding hair

securing the top and bottom locks,
doing the gate behind me
as I take out the trash,
even a neighbor’s shadow
a second-guess of my safety.

I am suddenly doubtful
at a man (not my man)
who offers to help me carry
the empty compost bucket.

I turn my cheek, hide my face—
try to leave as little a mark
as possible.

I tell him not to worry,

my husband will be in soon,
I am not alone.

My husband,
my husband,
my husband—

A warning,
a spell,
a prayer.

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Briana Naseer is a Pakistani-American school psychologist and poet living in Chicago, Illinois. She has a bachelor’s degree from the University of South Florida, and a master’s degree in education and an education specialist degree from The Chicago School of Professional Psychology. Her debut poetry collection is entitled Rind.

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​Kim Suttell is a collagist just emerging from a career in bureaucracy and spreadsheets. Paper, as her medium, speaks in torn edges, subtle curls, and tiny glimpses of previous use. The grid template references both quilts and ledgers, places where individual pieces must interact to create a new whole. It is the point to limit the format so that color, texture, and fragmentary images make their own movement and meaning. 

Instagram: Page48paperart