Rifat Islam Esha

my eyes can barely take the weight of sleep/ now/ now that you are wording sentences on wars

bits and pieces of her day/ get stuck in her hair/ she carries grief quietly

What moon might mean to you

now i see you in summer the kind  that came, before rain  could  settle us April, the beginning of it -

tears tasted salty when i was little sometimes i would inspect a drop against the light-

the first time i saw a tiger was in someone’s house all tall and lifeless; yet a tiger --