The Art Divas / Divas of Verse

Tender Bitter   When I started having tender thoughts about myself as a child—that long, pointed chin, those tiny eyes—I started having tend...

Bruise             Black bruise an inch below my knee; white bone, my      kneecap wrenched askew;             knee a blind eye, bruise a sh...

Dear America   I pick you up & you are a child made of longing clasped to my neck. Iridescent, lovely, your inestimable tantrums, I carr...

The Road   These are roads to take when you think of your country and interested bring down the maps again, phoning the statistician, asking...

White Dog   First snow—I release her into it— I know, released, she won't come back. This is different from letting what,   already, we ...

Under Limestone   It rained in fluted torrents, the earth smelled of manure. It was like desire entering and possessing you quietly. We undr...

The Kurdish Musician   She is swaddled in pink, sky-blue and veiled in a gold hejab that with every chime of her santoor dangles its fringe ...