Poetry
Kashmir
When the driver introduced us to the valley guards as tourists from India, my mother snapped rudely“I am Kashmiri, I grew up here” Wagging her local tongue bobbing her foot-long wedding earrings strung behind her neatly coiffed black and white bun His disdainful eyes and curled lips remained unbelieving. Kashmir, the valley of almond blossoms, […]
in & out of jean shorts (the reel catches)
I wish for sex out / in the open, to have / some strange body / glide over mine, to collide / as if to butterfly / underwater required not one / but two sets of salty / chests & jutting / calves
Is This Your Sky or Mine?
The body just births more questions and that’s my future.
I’m not like you
and don’t you ever forget / it takes practice to access what you demolished / when you see us / you feel something for the first time
No Beast, Don’t Bend
I am a body surrendered fully to nature, captured in this house, left sitting on haunches in corners under blankets.
Great Canadian Novel
As if a country was not an ever-tightening feeling in my chest.
As if poetry was not an ever-tightening.
“the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” —Humphrey Bogart, ‘Casablanca’
My heaven is / the cosmos is what all that space was built for.
On the occasion that i die before i’m thirty,
there must be no mention of my migration or bravery; / if anyone reads poetry, let it only be an ode to green-tea donuts
