Tag Archives: Samara Golabuk

(Un)Married: A Sestina in Temperatures

The fact remains, I’ve more creases on my hands, body, limbs than on the day I married— back when time stopped and spread like fans, softly gusting fans that now lift the ashen remains of my newness, dreams stopped up … Continue reading

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Aerodynamic

The anointing oil of the sky settles across the curdled milk of clouds below. No, it’s dishwater tea, and an erasure of atmosphere above with a cotton pillage of cumulonimbus cramming up from below, spilling, suds in the overflowing sink, … Continue reading

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For a boy to die

For a boy to die there must be the proper music, in perfect order like his body. But for him to able to die, the world must be in perfect dis- order, not like the songs propped like Dali’s crutches, … Continue reading

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