Sometimes a spoon of air throws itself at the water
and the water foams up to enter it
Quiet details about clay excites me
how it is composed of platelets
I learn to keep the clay wet but the irony of
someone who works in wet clay dies in the mud
Do you send people when flowers die?
If I were my urgency, where would I be?
Whatever falls out of the sky, something can
go right through it like it doesn’t exist
I can write about the moon all I want
its everywhere spectral leaks explanation
I think of how I want to stop moving but not here
it makes the world veer, shift and be nowhere
This curve was never a rational space
you can’t always hear time and distance
I learn not to care
When Ilari isn’t writing, she recites Ayahs (verses) from the Quran; travels with her family; plays hide-and-go-seek, blows bubbles, and chases fireflies with her three-year-old grandson. Recently nominated for Best of the Net, you can find her Greatest Hits in The American Journal of Poetry, Kissing Dynamite, The Daily Drunk, ONE ART, As It Ought To Be, Sledgehammer Lit, Paterson Literary Review, Free State Review, and others.