A Self-indulgent Postcolonial/Feminist/Poetry-in-Progress/Culture/Parent Blog
Friday, April 30, 2021
every dead thing is sainted
even if impermanent
as sadness, staining breath,
while our faces sigh into it--
an empty staircase
of smoke, of panic, prayer
rising, now howling
"open the door, open it"
gasping, holding on
to memories, remembering
doors used to open
Arundhati Roy: "We are witnessing a crime against humanity"
April 30, 2021
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