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MOMENTS

 
 
 
 
 

The  floor  broke  apart
the tasbeeh into ninety
nine  beady  reflections
and  my  mother  is still
able  to  fake a surprise
when  she  can’t  locate
them  all.  She  records
her     finds    in   burnt
match sticks. She lines
them   into   a   tally on
her   pillow.   Like  this
she    spends   the night
trying    to    find   sleep
in     the     ash.    When
we       were     together,
she    would   press  her
hot    body    into   mine
in  an  embrace so  tight,
it   went    through    me.
Like  this,    I   got  used
to    watching    her  hug
herself.  The   day  I  left
my   world   for  another
the       sky        ruptured,
and   the     sun   became
a  bone  with a   fracture
so    fine,   the  monsoon
finally   found   a    place
warm   enough   to   dry
itself.        When      time
turned       to           sand,
we   decided   to  live on
in    moments.    In   one
moment      I         clayed
together   a   flower  pot
so  we  could  hold  in  it
our   garden   if   it  ever
bloomed.  In  the  other,
I   came   home   to  find
the  pot  cradling  a  tiny
hospital     with      walls
so    empty   I    doubted
I      was     ever       born.

Ayesha Raees identifies herself as a hybrid creating hybrid poetry through hybrid forms. Her work strongly revolves around issues of identity, class, and race while possessing a strong agency for accessibility, education, and change. Raees cultivates relationships between the word and the image through form & structure, and filmic visual imagery such as Video Poetry. Shortlisted for the Judith Khan Memorial Poetry Prize, her poems have appeared in Cherry Tree, Blue Bonnet Review, and elsewhere. A graduate of Bennington College with a degree in Film & Animation, and Poetry & Playwriting, Raees was born in Lahore, Pakistan and currently resides in New York City. She tweets at @skunkbabepoet.

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