Poetry – Fall 2014
Badaun
mother, the banyan spreading
a colony of tarantulas through her bones
Letter from Nabila Rehman to Trayvon Martin
They will call us collateral
for someone else’s
safe sleeping.
Sly Smile
“Don’t give them money, it goes to the mob!”
Yes, dark criminalizes here,
Too.
Stoichiometry
Measures of salt seep from orgasmic arch
Sufi foot taps echo in New Delhi slum
The Prayer
One crow, then more, in the pebbled courtyard.
New voices join in, here’s to dawn, to dawn;