Category: Poetry
-
red lotus
Sylvia, beautiful thing,were you tired of the mask?tell me: how have you been?Sylvia, dangerous thing,glove those flammable hands;you burned yourselfbefore the world could.nine matches gone,the knife too familiar.you’re caught now—a lotus blooming red,a body drunk on its own heat,spoiling from the inside.Sylvia, entropy in a sundress,no room for four ghostsin…
-
for the children of war, everywhere.
there’s a hush in the wind as i speak to you / each language i choose / twists into barbed wire around their ears / twice, i turn off the television / they are calling you something else again / numbers, refugee, traitor, vermin / their metronome mouths keep tally…
-
as good as dead
in my dream,i walk down a narrow streetflanked by tall hedgerowsstanding like quiet sentinelsbut i can see the dark windowsof the beige houses,no light, no sound,the acrid air reeking of sulfur.at the end,i reach a black gateunder whichthe slope of the pavementis dyed red,opaque against the concrete,as it seeps down.i…
-
love: a comprehension test
choose the most accurate answer. (all may be incorrect.) q1. what is love?a) something i cannot write about.b) a bracelet broken by excess wear.c) a sin i almost forgave myself for.d) none of the above. q2. the correct way to end a poem about love is—a) to text goodbye.b) by…
-
my body turned 20
my body turned 20 in october and i started gymming a week after as if sculpting the vessel might make it listen to me. i have always found it lovely that my birthday was in the same month as halloween. the only day everyone welcomes transformation, transfiguration, metamorphosis. it feels…
-
another collection, of course: pt.iii
i promise you this is the last of that poetry notebook’s collection of mediocre poems, written from 2021 to 2024. i can’t seem to properly finish either of them—terrible time management—so i’m just dumping it all before i lose them. again, there are no titles and the asterisks separate them.…
-
another collection, of course: pt.ii
if you thought the last collection was the final one, think again—my poetry notebook is full of untouched ramblings from 2021 to 2024 that will be finding the light of day now. there are no titles, again, so the asterisks should separate them. * I look up at the night…
-
mosaic
i looked at myself in the mirror.i did not see myself.i saw a thief,a mosaicof everyone i have stolen.bits of glass and stonefrom here and there.return them all,and i am laid bare. i wanted to break the mirror.i wanted to break the mosaic.i am nothingbut a mosaicof broken pieces,held togetherby…
malalai khan 