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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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easy to count are hands
from these hands, fingers
from pegs that clench;

such mouths do you come from
limp as laundry lines
straggling in the air;

walls skewer me in and against a sky,
taut and trite as a moral.
all noon such layers descend on me.

nightly, they petrify into
vacant spaces on the frieze
till every morning crackles

inside you, spiteful as an egg.
a heart pokes and cooks—
fibers burn, burn

the elixir’s swerving
incandescence of bones.
trampling torch, ballerina, what

mangled jungles blaze a-
wake: faces sliding over
this spinning

masquerade—
what a sanctuary in these veils,
in this quick clap of locks,

barriers blooming into depth;
we do not communicate—
what do you do, how do you say

yet words, words perk up
busy knives, flashing
spite – eye-tip to

the next, new slice
till I am the heart, the crimson
fright that splits and flies through

toasts between these teeth:
archway of pearls, all night they
guard an abyss, mending, working

shapes beneath palms, stoic
and upturned in this casual guilt
our secret is.

 

 

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