Iqra

Winner of the DISQUIET Prize for Poetry

By IQRA KHAN

Watch the poet read from this piece at our Issue 28 launch party:

I begin as revelation. As explosion of glottal light against silence.
I am again asking for directions to the Haram, my ankles fluent in Arabic.

I am again asking for direction, ya Haram, my ankles flowing with Arabic!
Hagar, watch how God transforms this wilderness to civilization.

Hagar, our God transcends form and the wilderness of civilization.
A prophet migrates when the symptoms of sand and water say run.

A poet migrates until the syntax of sand and water says breathe.
All sky is blue and passable at home for summer.

All sky is blue and passable for home in summer.
Capitulation is to burn—a candle is a mouth on fire.

Capitulation is to burn a candle for a town on fire.
I have come this far to augment God embroidered in my throat.

I have come too far as argument. God borders in my throat.
I end as revelation, as expulsion of glottal light. And then, silence.

 

Iqra Khan is a Pushcart-nominated poet, winner of the 2024 DISQUIET Prize in poetry and the Frontier Global Poetry Prize 2022. Her poems appear in Indiana Review, Denver Quarterly, Puerto del Sol, Southeast Review, The Adroit Journal, Salt Hill Journal, swamp pink, The Rumpus, Apogee, and Palette Poetry, among other journals.

[Purchase Issue 28 here.]

Iqra

Related Posts

Glass: Five Sonnets

MONIKA CASSEL
In ’87 I see guardsmen walk their AK-47s / on the platforms. The trains slow down but never stop. I think, / my mother was born in such a different Germany, but this is true for everyone / —so why can’t I stop looking?

cover of "Civilians"

On Civilians: Victoria Kelly Interviews Jehanne Dubrow

JEHANNE DUBROW
Now we live in North Texas, hours away from the nearest shore. And yet, the massive amounts of open space—all the prairie, marsh, and plains that we have here—started to feel like another kind of vast water, another great expanse of distance and isolation.