[Note: a former version of this series was originally published in Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, March 2014 Issue.]
I know her body so well that I can trace
the scars on her wrist with my fingers
and read her like a poem in Braille.
I’ve played her laughter so often
on my turntable that I’ve composed
symphonies with it on frosted windows.
I woke up to the morning call to prayer,
and the arch of your back was the first thing I saw.
If it had been a mirage, I would’ve photocopied
your image and taped it to reality.
– excerpt from War Correspondence, a book of verse.
Michael Raqim Mira © 2016.