elementia
Baba’s Garden
By Clara RabbaniEgg-yolks blooming in serenity
baba’s palms turn upwards
black dirt falling on the sun.
The fruit of baba’s hands
covered in spines
twisted but not the wicked way
that punctures skin.
Serpentine limbs extend in search of
poem for my killer
By Yasi Farahmandniasometime before the clock hit eleven,
i thought of you.
i imagined the threat your caressing fingers possess
as they trace targets on the side of my belly.
The Stories They Tell
By Clara RabbaniI envy the stories
They tell.
Of the East
And the West.
Of bare feet,
Guava trees,
Roasted fava beans.
Of tin water pails
That held curly-haired children
To keep the dust off their feet.