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

Volume 8


Forbidden - July 2011


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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Our Last


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in the brick building,
paneled over the brick
paned brick, strolling out
from some reticent
years, some discordant
notes and awkward leave-

takings —on this frigid,
undecided season— we leaned
over this frayed land,
the derelict stricken
with this native mélange,
our gazes teasing the walled green,
cautious, drawn,
awed
by our own newborn

synchrony. straggling down the
unasking sky, we watched the arch-
shadow of this vast
mock-city,
the loping, vagrant mist-skirt of its
sprawled buildings
– jagged cavity of
windows to phantom lives –

when your palms parted
their first private
whisper.
it was your reaching, deliberate
smell.
tobacco. flowers

splayed by the chocolate dark
earth of my mole where your
fingers grazed their
inching
promises

and your one long look
at the abstraction found me
a centre, alien tower;

flagship gray, your eyes
lit me
window by glow-
worm window—
the city alight

there was a call, the beam,
the pirouetting, groping
dart

by the circle-full, I stood:
vortex to the brindled immense—
the answering wind whip-
ping the ocean coat;
folding directions,
a homecoming
then your tremble on my name—

assailable now I am

 

 

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