By Irène Mathieu
erasure of a letter to the current homeowners:Dear moment driving through a double take.I grew up. twenty years ago. [...]
By Sanam Sheriff
At a certain point, I lost you. I came to know it first as a weather, the earliest hour of day breaking on the bedsilk, its low rung of light, a pregnant silence.
This is the sound love makes—tolling of a tongueless bell, its waggingand wagging despite; its whole headteeming with wind. The sound
By Dave Lucas
I would be Diogenes. Swing my lampthrough these dishonest days in search.I myself have looked the known worldover and given everything a new name.
By Iman Mersal, Translated by Robyn Creswell
I used to believe there was so much evil in the world,and though I’m the gentlest of all my friends, I never saw a rose in a vase
By Raena Shirali
toenail polish warped waxen from sand, you leave your body behind again—mere rind, edges buzzingfrom unsought touch. you end up in a skeleton
solo, skirting the rim of our smolder, our ruin,
all lotus bud, bell-beat & drum-song, those many hands &the severed heads they hold, masc-demonic,
system says we’re not in charge of much elsebut this. system’s [planter’s raj] & the damn tea. the Brits sell us, Lipton sells us, Tata sells us. when are we permitted to unload?
in the living room again, i cannot conjureeven the space i inhabit. rain for several
reeking of moss & blossom & on the streeti call home, i cannot be sure if iexist. my thighs press on one another