by Diya Abbas
The Farmer and the Flood
‘one-third of the country is underwater’
square sheets lay afloat
the moon floods on steroids
tops of roof heads
tops of chess pieces
god is our only witness
earth tantrum
absent parents
baby country ‘47
a family floats on a metal disk
Pakistan
has always preferred the simple pleasures
a delicate summer
a swollen prayer rug
cows stuck in pits
dirty silverware
the system delicate
as mitti is clear
amerika pushes our heads underwater
sticks out his tongue and skits away
the river has made one with the town
there are no streets to run to
I am just asking you to listen
Dead Sea Dance for Sodom
the music drew
we come quick
minor boltings
for her slow rumble
I dance poorly, refusing the prophet
shucking god off my lip I mirror
the bodies, a clap
storm with her hot need in our heads.
two white girls kiss
I do not mimic their safety.
first time I saw my other paki
how miracle
she tells me her name
the one that kept her secret/alive
the phosphorescent glow of distance
between her feet and the ground
between her last name and knowing
from the sky to the street
I won’t tell them
no matter who comes to kill us
they know our moves
like prophecy etched in stone
I know fear
as this dark curl
down we pummel,
atmospheric pulling the sky
towards us.
the click of the key lock
to the keeper of my heart I surrender
her marvel lapping in my mouth
come in current
come in curse and wheel
with enough reverb
enough leather rope
we outlast the makers of the rain.
Diya is a first generation Pakistani poet. They were named the 2022 George B. Hill Poetry Prize winner. Their work has been featured or forthcoming on The Offing, Illumination Journal, The American Library of Poetry, and Respire Mag. Diya is currently studying Creative Writing at the University of Wisconsin Madison through the First Wave program. More of their work can be found at diyabbas.com.