THE SOUND OF RUNNING WATER, OR WUDU
by Meryem Yildiz
the rule or ruling, the best saved for last. i am full of intent, in heart and in mind, and in the name of god is a silence spoken only to oneself. i wash my hands of you, wrist to fingertips, three times. the right way, the left unsaid, off you go. there are so many grievances on my list to cross. i bear with them for the time being. i cup water in my palms and bring it to my lips. to spit you out, mouth dirty with your name in it. to break for a moment. to return to the statement. you would be such a good candidate for sobriety. i inhale water through my nose to find that breath fails without an exhale. i wash my face, my eyelashes, my forehead, the bottom of my chin, the marionette lines—all watered down. who’s laughing now? the thing with change is that it takes time. irises bleed into sclera into rings of silver. water eventually evaporates. there is so very little of us to go around. i wash my arms into a soft place to land. i wipe my head, front to back of crown. my hair gets in the way, but no inch is missed. i don’t forget my neck. i listen for shortcomings, index to eardrum, thumb on pulse points. is that a weakness? i once tucked wine bottles in my purse, but what don’t i know my blood has carried? maybe we only live through the back-and-forth of shared images. maybe the real party is happening elsewhere. surely fresh starts are better with clean feet.
ABOUT THE CREATOR
Meryem Yildiz is a poet born and based in Tiohtià:ke (Montreal). Her work has appeared in The Malahat Review, Acta Victoriana, FreeFall Magazine, Headlight Anthology and yolk, among others. In 2022, she won The Malahat Review’s Far Horizons Award for Poetry as well as the Quebec Writers Federation's carte blanche Prize. Her debut collection, Backbone, is set to be published by Guernica Editions in 2025.
@tristia on Instagram