The Old City

By NAUSHEEN EUSUF

Here are the steps leading down to the lake
choked with water hyacinths crowding
out the lilies, and algae thick as serum.

There is the rusted tube-well that once
drank deep from the earth’s waters,
its handle cranked like a question mark.

A donkey twitches its ears on the dust path
and vendors hawk their wares—hair bands,
hairpins, scarves, bangles, and nail polish.

We have been here before, in this old town
called the city of gold, of muslin spun so fine
that a six-yard sari could pass through a ring.

We have walked among the arched doorways,
the crumbling colonial walls, the moss, mud,
and lichen, the peanuts, popcorn, and candy-floss.

Somewhere nearby, a path leads to the shrine
of some local saint. People pray for answers,
for miracles. They leave garlands of flowers.

We have asked about the eternal pantomime,
about our part among these actors and props.
But no answer came, and we expected none.

 

Nausheen Eusuf is a Ph.D. candidate in English at Boston University. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The American Scholar, PN Review, Southwest Review, Salmagundi, Literary Imagination, and other journals. Her first full-length collection, titled Not Elegy, But Eros, is forthcoming from NYQ Books.

 

[Purchase Issue 14 here]

The Old City

Related Posts

The Old Current Book Cover

January 2025 Poetry Feature #1: Brad Leithauser

BRAD LEITHAUSER
I’m twenty-seven, maybe too old to be / Upended by this, the manifold / Foreignness of it all, the fulfilling / Queer grandeur of it all, // But we each come into ourselves / As each can, in our own / Unmetered time (our own sweet way), / And for me this day’s more thrilling

December 2024 Poetry Feature #2: New Work from our Contributors

PETER FILKINS
All night long / it bucked and surged / past the window // and my breath / fogging the glass, / a yellow moon // headlamping / through mist, / the tunnel of sleep, // towns racing past. // Down at the crossroads, / warning in the bell, / beams lowering // on traffic before / the whomp of air

heart orchids

December 2024 Poetry Feature #1: New Work from our Contributors

JEN JABAILY-BLACKBURN
What do I know / about us? One of us / was called Velvel, / little wolf. One of us / raised horses. Someone / was in grain. Six sisters / threw potatoes across / a river in Pennsylvania. / Once at a fair, I met / a horse performing / simple equations / with large dice. / Sure, it was a trick, / but being charmed / costs so little.