Poetry

“If They Come For Us” Plaintively Explores the Legacy of Partition

August 8, 2018

Fatimah Asghar’s much-anticipated debut collection of poetry spans the divide of Partition, community, loss, and love. Motion connotes a certain amount of freedom. It belongs in the air, in the depths of the ocean, in the fingertips of flames reaching for something greater, more infinite. But the movement of Partition relied on boundaries to restrict … Read More

Tommy Pico’s “Junk” is a Love Letter to Abandonment

May 4, 2018

Junk is the latest epic book length poem written by Native American poet and 2018 Whiting Award winner Tommy Pico. In the poem, “junk“ takes on a double – actually, quadruple – entendre. First and foremost, junk is junk, as in useless stuff. We learn that Pico’s relationship with junk began all the way back on the … Read More

Evil Eye

January 31, 2018

Mama calls me wilted, a flower bending inwards. In other words, depressed. Nani calls it nazar. A remedy, an illness. Carried by all. Contagious. Tightrope between keeping appearances and keeping a distance. “Nazar lagayi.” It touched you. Caressed your luck, as you naively crossed its path. His headaches. Her skin. The mangled car on the … Read More

Fear of Intimacy

December 11, 2017

A toasty touch lingered in the elevator between breaths. A slick, green, and clean rod–encircled by mist–breached only by a set of lips, hovered gloriously in her dewy cranial plasma. She leaned forward and then so did she. They jiggled warmly together for a few minutes, chatting about color. “My favorite color is purple because … Read More

Love in Three Encounters

December 8, 2017

The half-life of love is forever. -Junot Diaz 1 11 pm. Whatever they’re having, you said, sweeping your arm our way. The bartender serves you and Julian whiskey sours. Julian goes off with my friend. I go off with you. In your bed, in spite of the sloshing in my stomach and my kaleidoscope vision, … Read More

In Which A Straight Girl has Beautiful Brown Hair

September 13, 2017

I felt myself blooming. The tips of myself shivering. Wondering. If your mouth was a puzzle piece. If watercolor would dye silt. If I could pull you in with a skein of silk. I waited: and I promised the water that spilled from me was pure. My fault, I know. My hands open to the … Read More

Different Corners

August 29, 2017

i remember those boys now as a constellation of pathologies of hang-ups and hangers-on each more bitterly amazing than the last they congregate as if for the sunset prayer but not in the insulated carpeted vaulted rooms of the corner mosque– but on street corners, less proper but almost as silent just as claimant. always … Read More

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

August 28, 2017

i have no mouth and i must scream— white woman cuts open my throat, settles herself in white woman is articulate with my tongue white woman makes a home out of my body and gifts me a smile: broken english, a fragmented scythe for a grin brown woman never speaks the same way i look … Read More

Incensed

August 25, 2017

Today, per Hindu tradition, in anticipation of an auspicious ritual, they oiled and cleaned their bodies, the floor, the walls. But it was not enough to clean only these things so they burned agarbathi to heal all remaining wounds with an aroma. Spirals of smoke in the prayer room curled like her toes. A red … Read More

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