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Responses to American Poetry

The aim of this online space is to host the research work of university students or young scholars as this emerges from larger projects focusing on the American poetry scene. The objective of this initiative is to bring this kind of research activity to the attention of the general public in an attempt to further promote the exchange of ideas with regard to the process of reading, understanding and appreciating poetry writing.

  

Tatiani Rapatzikou 
(Associate Professor, School of English, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, Greece; Advisor and initiative co-ordinator trapatz@enl.auth.gr)


Moneeba Khan

Dada Walt

Dada Walt,

I look for you
under my boot-soles
as you told me to.

Lungi tied up
as I wade through
the marshes of
the Pine Barrens.

Kameez knotted
at my waist.
Bright green starburst
of sphagnum moss
trail toward the forest's edge.

Is it here
where I should
celebrate myself?
Sing myself to
the cedar scented wind
maybe landing in
the Jersey Devil's ear?

Dada Walt,

I know how you loved Peter,
your loafing companion,
hands intertwined,
branches of love,

how you loved
everyone of every
color, creed, and
composition,

right?

I, now twenty seven
years old
know that I love
the same as you.

My love sings
the body electric.
Hear now
the rolling tear
gas canister on
the cracked asphalt.

The smoke engirths our
black and brown bodies
into a wriggling mass
charging forth and forth.

A firm hand on
a fresh wound,
the cool milk rinsing
a child's eyes,
sweat and song
perfume the air:

No justice, no peace.

Dada Walt,

I wait here for you,
laying on a cot
freshly pressed
shalwar kameez in hand,
fluttering til it
cascades onto
your body.

Come, join me.
The collar of the kameez
sharp with starch will
encircle your neck,
prop up your head

and the bellowing legs
of the shalwar shall
stroke the rising heat
away from your thighs .

We will share
the crumbling biscuits,
the milky froth of chai
as our laughs swirl
with the dieseland dust in air,

the petals of oleander
crashing down onto
our clasping palms.


Collage


Contributor Bio: Moneeba Khan

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