I have space in my heart
for two trees, uncoiling.

They look as though they’ve been twisted in summer,
in peace. In mourning and defiance.

I see them in the Saturdays we spent
breathing out flies, sucking sand into our throats.

The air smelled of honeysuckle and weeds
and I found myself looking up

to where God might be. The times I bowed down in prayer
and imagined Him noticing.

No, I think, this was never conventional. The land
that I dream of – the love I envision.

Moons I hold in my palms,
actions carefully collected and swept under rugs.

If the sun and moon
balanced on my shoulders I think I would melt under their weight.

Oh, sweet gravity. Faerie days – I plant my trees under you. I run my fingers
through your sea. I pray and prostrate

and find the ground rushing
to meet me.

Ayesha Asad

AYESHA ASAD is a freshman at the University of Texas at Dallas majoring in Literature and Biology. Her writings have been published or is forthcoming in PANK, Cosmonauts Avenue, Reunion: The Dallas Review, Menacing Hedge, Neologism Poetry Journal, Santa Clara Review, Pulp Poets Press, and elsewhere. Her work has been recognized by the Creative Writing Ink December 2019 Competition and the Robert Bone Memorial Creative Writing Prize.

Contributions by Ayesha Asad