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Literature, PoetryMarch 15, 2017

on eid we slaughter lambs & i know intimately the color

Ingress, by Diyach Thebo. Image courtesy of the artist

i ride an uber spilling the last of the day’s ginger light
driver handsome enough to pull listening sounds as he chats

our talk is casual at its centre      but at the edges
i taste an old brittleness      memory of something burnt

he circles his mouth to an electronic cigarette
& its vapor braids into the earth & vinegar smell of sweat

you are muslim      he tells me      not a question
& i nod      smile at his smoke-dark eyes in the mirror

i count the prayer beads strung      in a necklace
from his rearview      ninety-nine & perfect      glossy & unworn

mine are sandalwood      & leave their perfume
when cabling through my fingers

drink?      smoke?      he demands an inventory of my wickedness
in the way men of my faith think me immediately theirs

daughter & sister & wife      always a test
& never asking my name

in the rippling mirror      my head uncovered
extra button undone from my shirt

i know this exchange & its right answers
a blink & head shaken no

he squints his endless eyes      at a red light he turns
counts what he sees in my face

& the light drips in to share our ride
new vermillion along our bodies

i blink again & measure his disbelief
i am tired in the new dark

& ready to confirm whatever he decides i am
for a moment of quiet      moment to rest

my loosened hair smells of coal
floats over the backseat like smoke

~ Safia Elhillo

Safia Elhillo is a Sudanese-American writer and educator living in Washington, DC. Her collection of poems, ‘The January Children’, received the Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets and is published by University of Nebraska Press. She is a Cave Canem fellow and holds an MFA from the New School.

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Diyach TheboPoem of the WeekpoetrySafia Elhillo

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One last love letter...

April 24, 2021

It has taken us some time and patience to come to this decision. TMS would not have seen the success that it did without our readers and the tireless team that ran the magazine for the better part of eight years.

But… all good things must come to an end, especially when we look at the ever-expanding art and literary landscape in Pakistan, the country of the magazine’s birth.

We are amazed and proud of what the next generation of creators are working with, the themes they are featuring, and their inclusivity in the diversity of voices they are publishing. When TMS began, this was the world we envisioned…

Though the magazine has closed and our submissions shuttered, this website will remain open for the foreseeable future as an archive of the great work we published and the astounding collection of diverse voices we were privileged to feature.

If, however, someone is interested in picking up the baton, please email Maryam Piracha, the editor, at maryamp@themissingslate.com.

Farewell, fam! It’s been quite a ride.

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