by Ilma Qureshi
this sunlight
golden shadows
the fire in my soul
alight
i trace my lips
in the honey-colored figure on the wall
dense, intense
wild mornings
sleep hanging onto eyelashes
of most men
and a woman, with soft breasts,
tosses on a bed
while in her dream,
she dances in a tulip field
kisses a rose
and turns to a cloud
her red sari, clings to her waist and
thick hair covers her bare neck
the whiff of plums and mangoes
mixing with monsoon
somewhere far
a young boy
dreams of being a firefly
luminous, electric, and utterly free
the goat rhymes
in a language, only known to goat-folks
while fire crackles
in houses
where men turn to tasks
more important, than dreams
white shirts, neat hair-parted and gelled
they gulp down tea
naan and chickpea curries
hustling to meet life, in its mouth
while the dew
on bright green blades
is still drunk with slumber
trees gaze at wild greens
as scuttling cats
sniff for scraps of food
and wild berries
and the sky
compete for color
About the Author
Ilma Qureshi is a doctoral candidate at the University of Virginia. For her research, she focuses on the intersection of aesthetics and spirituality in Persian Literature and South Asian Studies. Born in Multan, a small town nestled in south of Pakistan, she grew up listening to various local languages and writes short fiction and poetry in Persian, Urdu and English. By traversing through these linguistic landscapes, she hopes to unearth the myriad textures of beauty. Her work has appeared in journals such as Tafheem, Tareekh-e-Adab Urdu, Audio times and Active Muse.
