English Poetry

  • Mahbouba Seraj: What Is Left When the Sky Shrinks

    I.They think they have taken the sky.They have only taken the cloth.Beneath it, the river flows silent under her toes:the ridge of the nose, the valley of the breath,the estuary of the pulse at the wrist.I am mapping a country they cannot see. They built a roof over the sun, stone by stone.My eyes learned…

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