Sheikha A.

Bermuda Triangle

Old stones broken artistically know
a useful existence by forts for men
who cowered against prophecy. For
the princess fighting boars, love is
a fairy tale in the wind. The cold sea is
gentle beyond its bed of stinging corals
for even clouds amass like soft-blown
rings when the whales call from beneath.
Early rays of pre-anticipated fervour
never meet a wet ground faithfully;
pellets reach down as seeds: hailstones
in the arms of malady. The flowers
from this union will be dark.

The Chronology of Hair

These tresses don’t snake down the slim
back of my integrity for your pleasure;
many moons of long awaited nights had
been caught into earthen bowls of water,
cooled and the ends of my hair dipped   
to grow these roots, they didn’t just spring
out of a barren scalp, they grew like cactus
in a desert of heat, they grew like roses
from a puddle of mud, they grew like palms
bedded by a rubble of ash, they grew narrow
then wide, then thinned, then receded
but its growth never stopped, cropping
on a different plateau for nascent hands
to ornament with guileless vanity
and my reflection in autumn’s luminosity   
showing me at what age I would become
young again, for the number of times
seasons would take turns in (r)evolving;
the rubbing of kohl in patches of scarcity –
willing growth – of what has gone;
of what’s to come.

Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her work appears in a variety of literary venues such as Star*Line Journal, Poetry Repairs, New Mystics, Uppagus, Poetry Super Highway, and elsewhere. She has recently been published in Persian Sugar in English Tea anthology where two of her poems are translated in Farsi/Persian. More about her can be found at

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