top of page

Javeria Hasnain

I ONLY CAME TO SEE GOD


on the altar. When all the guests had left,

& the smell of tuna had wafted far off into the ocean


from where it came. No one truly knows.

I waited for you, even though I knew you wouldn’t come.


Can I ever escape being my mother’s daughter?

Hiding behind her red & gold dupatta, small & timid.


There is a light that blinds me,

but which I long to pursue.


I circumlocute, hyperventilate. Actions which can

otherwise only be explained as concepts.


God as taut, as tautology. God as a

tightening around my tongue.


My hips contracting, closing

an entryway. God as apology afterwards.


Each of us pining for Pleasure:

the oldest pre-Olympian sport in any book.


God as its trigger-puller, whistle-blower,

watching his rose garden wilt, petal


by petal by petal. Meanwhile, all

of us running & running & running &

 

Javeria Hasnain is a poet and educator from Karachi, Pakistan. She is a Fulbright scholar for MFA at The New School, NY. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Poet Lore, The Margins, beestung, and elsewhere. Her work has been nominated for Best Microfiction 2023. She is an alum of the Summer Institute - International Writing Program at the University of Iowa. She currently lives in Brooklyn and tweets @peelijay.


Recent Posts

See All

Miles Cayman

Ø I think your name is less like itself is more like your middle name and most like the way you've held your pencil ever since you practiced cursive, and the ridge of callus precisely on your finger t

Clay Matthews

The First Law of Robotics What kind of malfunction brought you, little daffodil, with the afterbirth of an early February frost; what maker of clocks, what loosed screw; what turned and left the heart

Commentaires


bottom of page