Why care so much for someone who hasn’t done the same for you? As a feminist offering to the project of abolition, Saidiya Hartman reflects, “Care is the antidote to violence.”

By Havannah Tran
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Poetry

my fingers still remember the days-old-stubbles

Poetry

how much time / does the wind give us? / do we still run? / who sends the wind? / does it carry the bombs? / or do they come after?

Poetry

i want to banish the shame/ write it in a book to be banned,/ take the banal, grow a banana/ tree of new knowing

Poetry

tell me you knew all along & you reached for / the heavens because you were happy.

Poetry

I’m starting to believe in small magics like / astrology and sudden rain

Poetry

When I look back, I think about all the times Gatorade has let me down in my life.

Poetry

It’s funny how ppl were saying that the peaches in Parasite / were some serious motif & symbolism of prosperity’s toxicity

Poetry

Left home at sixteen, said you wanted to go see the West. Grandpa didn’t stop / you. Figured you might die in some jungle across the Pacific.

Poetry

i love you / too much / let us reason in dissonance / play mozart on mondays / barefoot & / the wisteria i grow wild / the hands i keep sharp—

Poetry

somewhere a tiger loosens its throat or so she imagines / the rubber trees looming she lifts her paring knife to the day’s throat

Poetry

Where did you abandon the snowflake on which I wrote my secrets?

Poetry

A girl labelled comfort / wartime ammunition / recalled her father who built / her home on / a graveyard

Poetry

The witch was not thorough / with her magic

Poetry

Gas station glow past 3AM, the glassed look of a man who’s been sitting for too long, hot dogs slumbering behind a screen, their skins plump and pink.

Poetry

shall god taste / the sick / bodies also / singing / also breaking

Poetry

we inherited sickly
 / roots our ancestors couldn’t plant / deep enough to
 / grow

Poetry

I stow away the sentences in which there is no you in my drawer right after writing them I remember the time when I emptied the bottom of my drawer for you There I found stuff like a key that became useless forever

Poetry

Love letters spill / down the narrow stairs as I leave. I think I would like nothing / to miss her like I do, hence this tenderness, hence my hands smudging / myself. 


Poetry

One day you’ll be married. May Allah make your naseeb good. May you find a man who prays and follows the deen.

Essays

Creativity, as it turns out, is especially hard when your brain is in survival mode.

Poetry

my fingers still remember the days-old-stubbles

Poetry

Where did you abandon the snowflake on which I wrote my secrets?

Poetry

how much time / does the wind give us? / do we still run? / who sends the wind? / does it carry the bombs? / or do they come after?

Poetry

A girl labelled comfort / wartime ammunition / recalled her father who built / her home on / a graveyard

Poetry

i want to banish the shame/ write it in a book to be banned,/ take the banal, grow a banana/ tree of new knowing

Poetry

The witch was not thorough / with her magic

Poetry

tell me you knew all along & you reached for / the heavens because you were happy.

Poetry

Gas station glow past 3AM, the glassed look of a man who’s been sitting for too long, hot dogs slumbering behind a screen, their skins plump and pink.

Poetry

I’m starting to believe in small magics like / astrology and sudden rain

Poetry

shall god taste / the sick / bodies also / singing / also breaking

Poetry

When I look back, I think about all the times Gatorade has let me down in my life.

Poetry

we inherited sickly
 / roots our ancestors couldn’t plant / deep enough to
 / grow

Poetry

It’s funny how ppl were saying that the peaches in Parasite / were some serious motif & symbolism of prosperity’s toxicity

Poetry

I stow away the sentences in which there is no you in my drawer right after writing them I remember the time when I emptied the bottom of my drawer for you There I found stuff like a key that became useless forever

Poetry

Left home at sixteen, said you wanted to go see the West. Grandpa didn’t stop / you. Figured you might die in some jungle across the Pacific.

Poetry

Love letters spill / down the narrow stairs as I leave. I think I would like nothing / to miss her like I do, hence this tenderness, hence my hands smudging / myself. 


Poetry

i love you / too much / let us reason in dissonance / play mozart on mondays / barefoot & / the wisteria i grow wild / the hands i keep sharp—

Poetry

One day you’ll be married. May Allah make your naseeb good. May you find a man who prays and follows the deen.

Poetry

somewhere a tiger loosens its throat or so she imagines / the rubber trees looming she lifts her paring knife to the day’s throat

Essays

Creativity, as it turns out, is especially hard when your brain is in survival mode.