It was the tender
imprint of wetness
signature of mist, left
like a stealthy lover
that woke her

Sleeping twin, memory
last night, dancing naked
a single firefly made
the ceiling dark infinity
magicked by a lonely star

This could be a bird’s nest
her windowed perch, necklaced
by treetops, the fruit of listening
to green soundscapes muddied
by cloud-filled cup, trembling

At valley’s lip
honey-trickle of a hidden
Himalayan Rubythroat
leaf from an unbound book of song
capsizes, drowned out
by honking trucks

Heart beating in flight
has nowhere to go

Nepal’s clay is red as blood-
hounds biting cheeks of hills
earth of soft flesh a woman
manhandled

Memory wakes up
fifty years from now, weeps
at the grey concrete sky.

 

Sophia Naz

Sophia Naz

2016 Pushcart Prize nominee, Sophia Naz has published in numerous literary journals. Her poetry collections are Peripheries, Pointillism and Date Palms. She is Poetry Editor and columnist at The Sunflower Collective and editor of City, a quarterly of South Asian Literature.

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