Photo by Chris Parker
They say scorpions
Are solitary
But really they are lovers
Dancing in darkness
to find their mate
Crawling across floors brushed in poison
She like a queen of the desert
Shrivels under a sliver of the moon
New moon
Silver, sleepless moon
Dies
He waits two nights to find her
The moon winks a crescent
But even her exoskeleton is gone
Only a carbon trace on tile remains
Her innards not fully yet mopped away
In the day, he waits
For his love
In the darkened room
Claws up
The door opens
Showering him in afternoon sunlight
The silhouette of a sandal
As black as night
A hard swift blow
Explodes against tile
Leaving his trace
Where his lover was taken.
Only then, do they return
to each other
Tara Dorabji is a writer, Director of Communications at Youth Speaks, mother, and radio journalist at KPFA. Her work is published or forthcoming in Al Jazeera, Tayo Literary Magazine, Huizache, Good Girls Marry Doctors (in its second printing from Aunt Lute 2016), So Glad They Told Me (Bestselling New Release in Motherhood), Women of Color Anthology: All the Women in My Family Sing (2017 edited by Deborah Santana), Center for Asian American Media, Mutha, Chicago Quarterly, and Midwifery Today. She is an alumna of Voices of Our Nation and Squaw Valley Writers Community. Tara is working on two novels about family, love, and secrets set in militarized societies. Her projects can be viewed at dorabji.com.