Mehnaz Sahibzada

Mehnaz Sahibzada

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Red Moon

On my evening walk, I am the girl with two heads — a schizoid startled by strangers. My heart leaps like a fish.

A boatman once told me, hate swims down the spine and becomes a wish. Women who elope to storm center,

grow beards and make mistakes. I stroke my chin reflexively. The moon drips swirls of consolations. Still my

mind is a monster of menstruations. There is a cosmos inside of me that wants to erupt. I picture my spleen expanding,

my kidneys shooting stars. In the lawn outside my neighbor’s house, a rage of roses. Their thorns like the fangs of a wolf.

Photo Credit: Staff
Garrett Rowlan

Garrett Rowlan

Sarah Blake

Sarah Blake