I am nobody else’s version of who I am You cannot set your mind based on my looks alone There is no language that defines me Do not box me in Because I am my own I choose not to be enslaved […]
We are still here Aimé, us the niggers of the north An otherness-nothingness imprisoned in our minds by our colour I have heard of white writers who claim to be bush niggers they live outside the high prison […]
Seven Mountains For my maternal grandmother That moment when you see spring on your windowsill you have lost your sister, ceramic pot yellow daffodils, nodding buds. Wilted petals. Ruffled trumpet. Shriveled and fading that moment when news […]
Man on a Rocking Chair in San Juan In San Juan I found a man rocking on his balcony, the floors creaking, the glaze in the gaze, a daffodil stem hanging from his lips. I asked him was he […]
You will be the midwife To whatever little I have, You will be the midwife To what little miseries I cherish You will be the mast To my lost catamaran You will be the frozen froth of […]
This issue is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Abby Lippman (1939-2017). “As we were preparing to go on-line with this issue, we were hit with an emotional sledgehammer. Abby Lippman – a frequent contributor to Serai, a dear […]
Since human beings are eminently perishable, they seem to have an obsession for permanence. It is normal for people to yearn for what they do not possess or do not have a chance to possess in their lifetimes. But […]
Musée Rodin, 1972 I saw this body I am sure of it. Flesh and bronze. In one long stare, In fixated, circular study, In love with this thoracic cage, Vertical breakline, rack Of ribs, sinews strong, Tying life and […]
Cayo Santa Maria (Written in Cayo Santa Maria, Cuba in February 2017, right after meditation on the beach) Crashing wave reaching high up on to the beach, then disappearing like a dream, like some understanding, into silent sand (a […]
Chronic Fatigue System Too tired to exercise (who gets mono in their 50s?), endorphins droop and symptoms of menopause return, drench night’s sheets. And the bones, breaking down, what that other poet said, ‘the leaking’ or ‘letting in of […]
Peuple dilué investigates the psychology of bodies untethered to borders and regions. Originally inspired by the Roma population of Sutka, Macedonia, this on-going series explores the idea of a people versus a nation and transient identities.
He drove me in a TATA cab through the streets of Old and New Delhi. The air un-breathable. I heard his bone voice breaking down telling why he didn’t vote for “the man who wears a […]
Ellipse I am the chaos of my father’s order I am the conscience of his delight I am the fantasy of his prison I am the mirror of my father’s light I am the axis of his revolution I […]
I came looking for you on the streets of Montparnasse boulevard Arago, rue Saint-Jacques, rue Mouffetard, boulevard Raspail place de l’Odéon I came looking for a woman solitary not afraid living on coffee and fine on the money men […]
Canadian poetry The birds are quiet here. They do not shout or bang about the window openings. They are discreet and twitter from a distance screened by shrub and fence, minding their business. Perfume All my life, […]
Woman in the dream of the pink house I listen to you tell, Éloïse. Years before this dream. Perhaps it is taboo because it is ugly. We are stripping corn and talking. I stare at your bruised […]
