A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
I am the vendor on harlot streets
I am the night on your tongue
I am idiot vowels, striking out
I am not what you imagine.
I am soft and blunt
The boy treads on my breast
The woman sees herself gone
The man adjusts his tie.
I am the feeder inebriate
I occlusion, forked steel
The way he held his money
The mouth that swallows it all.
I am pauper’s milk, skinned cream
Not knowing how to believe you are real
I do not care, being the holder of enmity
Avenger of ghosts who steal identity.
You set your mind around bullets
And swear to freedom
I donate my soul to banners
And crucify religion
Welts, reddened on her face
She is stung and hung and undone
He is the one, who weds carcass
Fouls the air with risen again
How he will dance upon my grave
Drink champagne from a bloodless orb
One eye gone, the other goes ’round
Applauding joyful death
We cheat ourselves and smile
Believing all is well, and we are strong
Until redness flows, tears are dried
Upon the sand of withered time
It is the end and beginning of things
Change we embrace, unwell
We soil the ground, plant seeds of doubt
Gather the windy bombast of words
Orphans within and without.
Copyright 2014 by Anna Husain
Image: “I am Raheemi w/o Adoo, resident of Bundal Island off the coast of Karachi in Arabian sea, we are no terrorists , had lived our life here but now the government has forced us to migrate as they are building a new city by the investment of a foreign construction company ,we have no where to go! 22″ X 28″, Oil on Ivory Card.”