The Seclusion Room

Art by Rob Goldstein
The Seclusion Room

I want food and glare at the
safety window in the door.

I pause before I rap.

I know that if I rap I’ll be hungry; my guts
will boil but someone will bring me food.

But if I rap my guts will boil and I might be
ignored.

I wonder if it’s worth the risk.

Art by Rob Goldstein
Self Portrait #10

The door is locked and I have 4 points

1 for each arm and 1 for each leg

I scratch my thigh as I

slide down

a mile wide

awning

and land quietly in a bin of wrist
tags.

Superman swoops me up and
flies me away

we are weightless….

He says “You can have the fortress
of solitude. Everything is yours.”

I scratch my thigh and yawn.

RG (c) 2016

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Behind The Hijab…

a cooking pot and twisted tales

Halima is a good Muslim woman, but in her husband’s eyes, she’s too beautiful to a fault.

When she joined the bank as an intern, she met the gentlemanly Rashidi; a legal adviser at the bank.

A quick courtship ensued; they fell in love, their marriage Nikah was conducted and baby Hakeem arrived, with a darling baby girl Salama all within two years of nuptials.

With respect to Rashidi’s wishes, she became a stay-at-home mom and agreed to always wear the full covered Hijab because he wanted no one ogling his wife when they went out.

In no time, her hijab became a veil to mask the pain in her eye’s and the bruises around her throat. She kept struggling harder to be a better wife, to speak more softly in the face of the new brute who has invaded their home.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

P.S. I don’t care what religious…

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