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•   A BIANNUAL LITERARY MAGAZINE BROUGHT TO YOU BY DESI WRITERS' LOUNGE   •

Volume 10


From Pulp To Postmodern: A Tribute - July 2012


Verse

Hera Naguib

Written by
Hera Naguib

Hera Naguib has an MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, New York. She has previously worked as the poetry editor of Papercuts magazine, and a Senior Reader at Sarah Lawrence College’s literary journal, Lumina. Her work can be found in The Maya Tree Liberal Arts Review and Papercuts among other publications. She is from Lahore.

        
      
       
            
              

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I Remember


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By late July,
the summer’s wet land
had laid its trees
in the mire
where you were
a kind of martyrdom,
always rescuing one
thing or another
end for the end-all
of this dream that
crackled the filament
in your blood that summer
when the earth
to the sliding sea
slid for the sea
and the spiders had sprung
from the wet mass
to this new kind
of cocooning
spun from the crash
of your phantom touch
I burgeoned
like a blanket of poppies
stinging such distances
in a blood’s beat—
we played this game
like tight wires at a
frenzied vibrato
till it was a picture
screen of stars
the moon unrobed
from the bowl of the night
that you kissed, saying:
“remember”

 

 

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