About the Feature


Photo by karlnorling

After Agha Shahid Ali


So now the spring stirs up its sugared mania

Diyas of camphor so vast, my knees give way

Unspooled, silken light in my veins

This forest sluiced, misted with You

Vacant temples calling then uncalling my name

I blow fire at embalmed doors, drink from clear bowls of eyes

I touch felines on dazed stairwells, watch them nip the night

You are a lampooned sky with branched limbs

You are a translucent trap hungry for wings

Walking the slopes of your hand,

Your tears raining wine

On uncooked earth—

What haven’t I done for a glimpse of you?

I lit wicks just to seal breath in jars

I crushed flowers for a single dance with pollen

About the Author

Neha Mulay is an Australian-Indian writer and a current MFA candidate in poetry at New York University. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the Maine Review, Black Warrior Review, and Barzakh, among other publications. Her essays have appeared in Overland Literary Journal (online) and Feminartsy. She is the managing editor for Honeysuckle Magazine and the web editor at Washington Square Review.