New Exile Poems
By Tuhin Das1.
I am a writer,
the light burns late
into the night in my room.
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Body Under Another’s Tradition
By Aliah Lavonne TighEveryone in Anatomy pairs up,
receives a small baby pig.
The scalpel shines like water or a mirror—if you look, you see
yourself: gloved hand pushing a blade to open
the other animal’s chest. Someone drops
a knife, shouts,
Clean it up. This is how we learn to
dissect a body.
Raath Ki Rani
By Sham-e-Ali NayeemThe other night I sensed her
fragrance makes presence
known before witness.
Heard faint flowers
unseen anklets worn by
ghosts of Hyderabadi streets.
Soft Black Girl Aesthetic
By Arumandhira HowardWe are made shy / sun, kissing another heartless / night awake. We are made satin silking / pompon locs. Cotton, banana pudding, baby’s / breath. These cornbread thighs, our blessed butterfly / knives. We are made to de-stem hardened men like bull-headed / bougainvillea.
After Hours at the Garment Factory
By Amatan NoorLet’s inhale some fresh air
Its botanical river wafting into our nostrils
Alas, the sky has been seething crimson
for half a century
Homegoing
By Sarah AudsleyYou will return to the temple, swept clean,
tea sprouting in rows, clappers of bells ringing out
as incense burn at the foot of the golden Buddha.
Alias
By ChrysanthemumScheduling a follow-up with my PCP, I prepare
for disaster. Inevitable as flood, I hush a moniker
kept in confidence, wager my informed consent
for a Hancock granting passage. Gates are flimsy
metaphors. It’s more of a worn-down levee, dike
ready to burst without notice.
Becky Declines Barbie’s Dinner Invitation
By Johnson CheuI should have figured as much.
After all, it took over thirty years
to realize Barbie’s Malibu
convertible isn’t accident-proof.
What Fell, and Other Ways of Seeing August 15th
By Sahar MuradiK says what fell?
R says prices have shot up
I says our people did not fall
M says we have so much more to lose if we leave
R says the gardens are still awash in green
N says he was arrested
S says he is still dubbing films, just quietly
R says a mother sits in the road shrieking at every passing car
Mehfil
By Adeeba Shahid TalukderTonight,
the beloved ascends
the rungs of stars;
seated on a mirrored
cushion, she is both spectacle
and witness,
both of the mehfil
and its all-seeing god.