Quarantine

By HERA NAGUIB

 

Tonight, I halt to prior ghosts 
   that upwell again, funerary as the sirens 
     that shrill through the tracheal alleys. 

            When I tell F., he says, this is America— 
what you leave for her claims you back

            Yes, the fountain veil loping 
over the ribbed Red Sea I wanted 
            to shiver to a whisper as a girl. 
Yes, little caskets of Himalayan 
pine nuts I thumbed each sulfurous winter. 

It’s true I’ve buried all the cities I’ve called home 
            in some lacquered erstwhile ache. 
            How easily I’ve worn 
the sky’s feigned amnesia & throbbed 
            tedious, as the landscape outside 
   where each evening, the same rangy cat 
licks the fungal pool in the balding grass.

What, truly, would I give for repose: to belong? 
To breathe inconspicuous as a dab 
on a box Mother clamps over the still humid 
dinner across that eastern hemisphere 
            where night slinks into every 
            familiar katora and spoon hollow? 

Everywhere, contagion shreds 
being to a minimal question. 

The answer ferments, unspoken & 
            hung over the open bracket of sleep. 

On the news, grounded airplanes 
heckle me with their snouts. 
The earth teethes coffins en masse. 

For days, the mind, a fugitive, 
             seeks to slink from its atlas of disquiet. 

For days, I touch no one. 

I let hours thaw on my nape 
             and outstare a ceiling stain 
             till it sips from my affliction.

 

Hera Naguib is a Pakistani writer who was raised in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, and Toronto, Canada. She is a PhD candidate at Florida State University. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in the American Academy of Poets’ Poem-A-Day, The Cincinnati Review, Gulf Coast, and World Literature Today, among other publications. Her website is HeraNaguib.com.

[Purchase Issue 22 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Quarantine

Related Posts

Photograph of a bug

Holding the World’s Coat

DANIEL MOYSAENKO
I do not like what you’ve done to yourself— // predictable theatre of struggle / I’m in the wings / of / world // Instead take this / translucent /  pisces-glyph bug: // Its antennae flitting to test / the space just in front of its face / It struts right into a recluse web 

Headshot of Stephanie Niu

Phenomenology Study / Elegy for Island Love  

STEPHANIE NIU
The banana plant that thrashed outside my lover’s window / seemed unreal. Our hours together felt like a dream: / how he nudged a spider up the shower tile / with a cupped hand, unwilling to hurt anything / alive. How unlike me, watching the slow turn / of the ceiling fan...

The Month When I Watch Joker Every Day

ERICA DAWSON
This is a fundamental memory. / The signs pointing to doing something right / and failing. Educated and I lost / my job. Bipolar and I cannot lose / my mind. The first responder says I’m safe. / Joaquin Phoenix is in the hospital. / I’m in my bedroom where I’ve tacked a sheet...