by Abu Bakr Sadiq Malik Shibly she unfolds with the night; fills the room with soul music to wrench out shadows of blue devils. & weave gowns from rays of moonlight to muffle snowballs of her thoughts. her body is a city she lives in like an immigrant peeling histories off a dead tongue. in this poem, she’s kissing the scars on my wrist as if to dry them of their memories. i touch her face —  it breaks into mirages of the storms we quieted into prayers & because we’ve won bat