Javeria Hasnain
In a dream groping for god
Golden hands in a shower moving horizontally—air crisp in yesterday’s
moonlight. I will spend my entire life resisting the shadow of your face
& your breath will still haunt me—cold on a June morning, since events
like these will exist in our world. Our world, now so quiet, eerie—like
watching an entire city atop on a worm moon night. Coyotes hiding
behind a black bush. Perhaps, mutual fear is a kind of love too. & angels
can be sent anywhere. One need only to stop insisting on their wings.2
Most times, I only believe some things are real because I fear them.
Tonight, when you sleep, remember you are able to dream anything into
existence—your lover’s hands on your tulipped face; the sun facing the
moon, rendering us moonless; stars shining like foam in water, over
which god prepares for a deep, deep dive.
Javeria Hasnain is a poet, translator, and educator from Karachi. She is an MFA Poetry candidate and a Fulbright scholar at The New School. Her poems and prose have been published in several journals and anthologies, including Pleiades, Poet Lore, Mascara Literary Review, The Brazenhead Review, and Isele, and nominated for Best of the Net and Best Microfiction. She has worked with Cave Canem Foundation, Teachers & Writers Collaborative, Tupelo Press, and Alice James Books. SIN is her debut poetry chapbook.
MORE FROM SUMMER 2024 (6:1)