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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