Two Poems by Andisha Sabri

New Message – Long Distance

I skip just half a heartb– 
A blinking light
I feel too much
A blinking light
I know it’s just

A blinking light
A will-o-wisp
A beacon guiding steady flight

A familiar bleep
A chirp, a trill
A plea to pull me from my sleep

I stumble, blind
A moth to flame
Just to see your picture
Some words for me
To be read in your voice
With your accent, tone, manner, poise

You come to me
As a blinking light
To me you are
A blinking light
I think I love
A blinking light 
I’ll leave you for
A blinking light




A Prayer for Frogs

You sat before an altar
Your knees bent underneath
Your ankles to each side.
A little frog? Oh God.

You only breathe
When unobserved you breathe
Relax for me or not
For me. You little frog.

Your skin is thin. It’s cold.
Don’t let them pick you up
Unless they’ve washed their hands
Oh God. They’ll burn you, frog.

Don’t eat flies disgusting
Don’t you let them see that
You eat the flies is that
Really ethical?                 Clean?
Do you know where it’s been?

But you are not a frog
Don’t bend your legs that way
Your primate legs that way
Relax your legs. Oh God.

Little frog, little frog
Tell them why your legs have hair
Is that the way God made
Your legs? Unbend. Oh God.
You’re breaking them.




Andisha Sabri is an aspiring fictionist only masquerading as a poet. She was born in Queensland, Australia but managed to escape, and lives for the time being in the Czech Republic.