By: Taslima Nasrin Translated by: Kousik Adhikari Much have been said About farming, cards, history, And of the two swans Walking on the grassy field In neighbor’s house! Now, let’s talk about body. Let’s touch skin, pores, Putting out evening lamp, incense…

By: April Salzano it didn’t make any of the sounds I had expected. No wailing howl, no shrill scream, not even a broken sob that lasted into that first night alone. No angry hyperventilating choke, no empty gurgle of loss, no…

By: April Salzano I cannot remember the last time I drove like this, the air of autumn filling every space of my interior with warm rhythm, uneven presence. I am not sure how a song by this title has much to…

By: April Salzano Latent Farsightedness, a hidden prescription you have compensated for all of your life, the eye doctor said. My pupils swallowed his face and most of the light in the room, dilated in ocular contraction. In other words, I…

By: Christiane Demack “White, please tick this box, And welcome back – To the United States.” Identification encompassing All the glowing clouds The airplane coffee spills Encompassing the sand setting Desert silent, the children Fingers darting through the Flame playful, broken…

By: Christiane Demack I want to make you feel good Feel safe; feel thrilled I am all you need I’ll stumble Stumble honestly So you can catch me And let go of the façade That freaks me out and leaves you…

By: Christiane Demack Clean thrill, rising, again Spilled coffee, plastic cup White paper, ink – as The red roofs drop Into a warm picture Of Home. That comforting voice, Soothing, the voice of Arrivals & Departures, & Pleasant stays, High Over…

By: Christiane Demack Can you see the joys of the mountain-tops, The grandmother’s silver in your golden hair? Can you feel his arms around you, can you smell The fire of the camp-site, and feel The sheer power of the wolves?…

By: Neelam Dadhwal I looked out of the container a refreshing life, as if cells could soak oxygen. Tripled on its contents on way with friends and half down the valley we lay wreath on our expedition. Half of truths, being…

By: Shobhana Kumar suddenly, i remember faces only alive in fading photographs. today, it is the benevolent face of a grand uncle, whose freshly Cinthol-soaped face and silver white stubbles always held a smile for me. he, who i haven’t bothered…