Their sentences ring wedding bracelets round our wrists.
The only death Greek sailors claimed to fear. Mountains
Eighth floor of the neurosurgery ward, minds vanished.
Eyelash of a child, she catches the bodies of the dead,
Words of morning, her tongue clicks rubies in the mouth,
Where salt pearls nestle in shells of speech.
In the boneyard
Than it’s thrown
a wooden door smashed,
a knocking in the absence of the door.
sharp with desert melon
fruit I cannot name
with fruit from your market
through a curved century
Alight with river clay
Sweet lime on her tongue
or maybe castoff poems
She lifts her foot in oval dance.
Dr. Shameem Black is an assistant professor at
the English Department of Yale University, where she specializes in
questions of globalization in contemporary literature. Currently she
is writing about reconciliation in an era of mass violence.
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This web journal is sponsored by The Caspersen School of graduate studies, Drew University