Postcard Before I Forgive You
I was in real need.
I was eating raspberries
and nothing else.
I wrote love poems
for everyone but you.
you weren’t yourself,
or you were; I hated
the careless way you drove.
shouldn’t real penance take
forever? I stayed all day
alone in any one line,
for hours walking past hydrangeas,
walking past hydrangeas.
Otchayanie
in february snow
a gash of noise
like euripides’
women translated
into vowels long
and low threatens
to open wide my body
feral and foregone
a slow spilling
the taylor glacier
leaky mouth
poured wine
last night in russia
black snow fell
in pieces soft
and beautiful
I nearly believed
clouds meant more
and heaven was
and the crows all there
in pieces shed
their bodies
beautiful
unspeakably so
sunrise through mount vernon, wa.
after beauty I am
entranced by the soft
dislodging of eyes:
blurs of cows
necks sloping
lapped-rainbows
colors thinner
than water
and running
this is where
I most miss
the dead:
a highway pasture
bisected body
and always
I am on the other side
Jasmine Khaliq is a Pakistani Mexican poet born and raised in Northern California. She holds an MFA from UW Seattle, where she also taught. She was a finalist in the 2019 Wabash Poetry Prize. Her recent work is found or forthcoming in Black Warrior Review, The Pinch, Phoebe, and Raleigh Review.
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