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The Opposite of Holding in Breath—

By Hari Alluri

the tea in her glass. It glows the brocade. 
Her grandmother picked that tea 
on a mountain—a mountain in a war 
whose shores were her bed. Steeping, the petals 
open as if they know nothing of bullets.   

..............*

One, she works barehanded 
like aloe plants, two, on the outskirts 
of our century. She dreams of, three, turning 
a bombed out city into an afternoon nap.

Added: Friday, September 4, 2015  /  Used with permission.
Hari Alluri
Photo by Vanessa Richards.

Hari Alluri immigrated to South Vancouver, Coast Salish Territories at age twelve. He is co-founding editor of Locked Horn Press, a community facilitator and a poet whose recent work appears in B O D Y, Chautauqua, Poetry International, Word Riot and Dismantle: An Anthology of Writing from the Vona/Voices Writing Workshop (Thread Makes Blanket Press, 2014). He is the author of a chapbook forthcoming this year: The Promise of Rust (Mouthfeel Press).

Other poems by this author