Of God-Trees
“Every time I shave, just above the legs,/ and reach the protruding bones/…. I, again/ hear the whistling of the wrecked train.” Weekend poem, by Mahtem Shiferraw.
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The House on Bahadur Shah Zafar Road
“When it rains here, the skies splatter open, as if Mr. Hyde had taken a knife to a beautiful woman, ripping her apart, smiling thunderously over her remains. It’s a brutal rain here, like everything else.” Story of the Week (December 6), by Anis Shivani.
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Poet of the Month: John Robert Lee
“I try always for depth and vision…” John Robert Lee, The Missing Slate’s Poet of the Month, interviewed by Jacob Silkstone.
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From ‘I CIVIL’
“When we lie in bed long enough,/ the boundaries of our bodies dissolve.” Weekend poem, by Amalie Smith. Translated from Danish by Paul Russell Garrett.
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The Creator
“…it certainly wasn’t the fault of the doll… Although, yes, the man had torn off her head, sliced off her breasts and ripped her skin to shreds before he shot himself with an old farm rifle.” Story of the Week (November 29), by Guðrún Eva MÃnervudóttir. Translated from Icelandic by Sarah Bowen.
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Skaparinn
Icelandic text of the opening section of ‘Skaparinn’, by Guðrún Eva MÃnervudóttir.
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Swiss Lace Blouse
“I will take a bath before noon./ The street will rapid blink/ at my doughy belly…” Poem of the Week (November 26), by Annie Zaidi.
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Nine and a half weeks
“He didn’t even get it; I was leaving him,/ and not just jumping on the tram…” Weekend poem, by Margarita Petkova. Translated from Bulgarian by Christopher Buxton.
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A Search For Identity In Between Worlds
Maida Salkanović reviews ‘Crossing Black Waters’, Athena Kashyap’s first poetry collection.
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The Witness
“To lie is to spare her some needless suffering. Is therefore an act of mercy, kindness—of maybe even love.” Story of the Week (November 22), by Jonathan Callahan.
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