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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
If you ever find yourself slouched on the world’s perfect riddance
If, somehow, all the air that’s stayed with you are smokes of cigarettes
If you know that you have fallen into the hands of hell, blazing with fire,
Flickering like live wire,
Seek further down the path-
Intrude further down the core-
For there is no question,
How diamonds find derision, isolation and hell
As places to score a flawless sleep.
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
I stand here too still
Like a tree in a meadow
Though trees are alive
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
I hope
you remember yourself
well-enough tonight.
Because we all know
how fireworks are proud,
and loud and glittery
while sadness is illuminating
at its own sky,
somewhere in the
year-long night
living inside you.
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
I love you- too much
That my ghost shall die,
a thousand deaths,
again and again
to bury any memory that's
capable of haunting you-
to chase away the burn
that may brew my nightly visit.
I love you- too much,
That you shall never see
my shadow, my scar, my remains
even at the most obvious places.
I love you- too much
That you shall never
hear that I do, ever again.
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
Why tonight?
Of all nights, knitted carefully by the slenderest of hands,
To form into a year, that springs into decades and centuries
And into a future with both of us gone –
Of all nights, that I have lain awake, asleep, disturbed, in love –
Why tonight?
Of all nights, why this night – when the moon shows nothing but its fullness
And bareness and disguise?
Why tonight?
Of all people, completing the billionth count, filling the shards of this planet we pity to call continents –
Why you?
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
I remember
one of those nights,
right before you rang
at my door,
when I used to call
writing
a chore.
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
What are you going to do —
now that I stare at you,
listening into the silence, howling
the absence of noise?
What are you going to do —
now that my heart and all the ounce
of reason that embraces it, drops
into the cold tile floor?
What are you going to do —
now when the distance that separates
my feet to your feet is a
giant stretch of air, and people,
and books and rubble and
impossibility
and dying chances?
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
I will tell you about sadness
that is the scrap of flesh on the very tip of my toes
to the highest point of my skull.
I can tell you what about sadness-
when I lay my head back for a fortnight-
missing meals, missing knocks on my doors,
missing one’s absence inside my head,
and surviving- surviving still.
But when I write about sadness,
I shall write about you.
I shall write about a story that
was never given a chance to start.
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2016
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
I see that your side of our closet
has gone blank.
And I,
I do not know
what to do with these walls
full of our photographs.
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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Hanna Mae Mata Poem
He smokes cigarettes to set the ocean on fire.
And before he can even dry a drop
from the salty carnival of waves,
he has already consumed most of himself.
While the ocean, the waves, all of it-
will not mourn for him no matter
how it roars of blue,
no matter how it bowls
the most ardent tears
lavishly.
Copyright © Hanna Mae Mata | Year Posted 2015
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